


In Chains

by SugarGlaze



Category: One Piece
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Chance Meetings, F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2020-12-16 12:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarGlaze/pseuds/SugarGlaze
Summary: Meeting him was a miracle; meeting her was an opportunity. Both thought they were incapable of love, bound in heavy chains that were meant to enslave them forever. How wrong they were.





	1. Intertwining Paths

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written as a throwback to the Alabasta arc, this story has some similarities, but it's completely original. Please enjoy.

"He did not," Shachi muttered as he leaned against the railing of the upper deck. It was a particularly warm afternoon; hot enough that he had to trade his boiler suit for a pair of breezy slacks. His captain wouldn't mind. Law was held up in his office, busy with what Shachi could only describe as work.

He wanted nothing to do with this. Instead he'd rather sit outside and enjoy the day; no idea as to when he'd see the sky again. The Polar Tang was completely stocked and the Log Pose was nearly set – coordinates to the next island were being debated over at this time. All that was left to do was to wait.

In any case, Shachi was content with even a little downtime – the crew had their share of hard work since the Summit War. He only wanted a moment to breathe, though he knew the calm would not continue long. The Heart Pirates were already weeks behind the other Supernovas – excluding the on hiatus Straw Hats – who by this time were in the New World, steps closer to finding the elusive One Piece.

Trafalgar Law had his reasons for staying on the Paradise side – he claimed – but no one other than himself knew what they were. It brought alarm to some of the crew. Shachi, who had known him for quite some time, was not concerned. He understood that Law was on to something and would tell the crew once the time was right. Giving surety to the crew, Shachi hoped that some of the panic would dissipate. This still didn't bring to an end to it. For instance, a certain frizzy haired woman – the crew's only female – was running off at the mouth at this very moment, venting all her worries to luckless Shachi.

He could barely understand her, even though she was talking loud enough for him to hear. All her words sounded foreign to him; the red haired man clearly wasn't following. He had to stop her before his ears began to bleed – as if they might. Tossing up his inked arms, Shachi covered her mouth and glared at her from behind his sunglasses.

"Did you not hear me? I just said that he didn't. Why in the hell would you think our captain would go and do a thing like that?"

Her brow twitched in annoyance. For some reason his hands smelled like fish; it disgusted Ikkaku. She staggered back a step, freeing her nose from the sudden assault and tried to answer him, but once she opened her painted lips, he again interrupted her.

"And speak so that I can understand you; clearly."

"Use your ears, dunderhead. I was just about to tell you before I was rudely interrupted," Ikkaku snapped. She huffed a sigh and continued. "It makes sense doesn't it? Captain is amassing bounty posters. He asked Uri to grab him a newspaper from the last island and when he gave it back, all the posters were missing. Don't you think that's a little odd? I mean, it's not that he's bored and is looking to start a hobby in collecting."

_That is odd_, Shachi agreed. Even so, he couldn't assume the worst just because his captain was doing something a little out of character. _Like making a deal with the Marines – _as she was suggesting. For all he knew, Law was merely trying to keep track of the other Supernovas by following their bounties. This was the most logical explanation he could think of anyway.

"Remember when we left Amazon Lilly? Captain told us to follow his every order; that he'd one day steal the proper throne. We cheered for him, and I have no doubt that all of us believe he'll do it too." Shachi glanced out at the open sea, captivated by its unnatural, beckoning afterglow. It was indeed a stunning sight to look on. "He has a plan … and hell I don't know if collecting bounty posters has anything to do with it, but he knows what he's doing."

Looking back at her, he asked. "And what kind of crew would we be if we started doubting him?"

Ikkaku said nothing. What was there to say? She knew that Shachi was right – it left a sour taste in her mouth admitting this. Crossing her arms beneath her chest, she pushed out her slender hip and glared at him; a coy smirk raised his lips. "Suck it up, dunderhead. Maybe try washing your hands every once in a while; you reek. No girl is going to want to be near you smelling like you do."

This brought a frown to his face. Scoffing, the insulted red head shot her the bird and pushed himself off the railing, marching towards the staircase.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Shachi mocked her beneath his breath. He didn't care how mad she was; he needed to get away from her before she ruined his otherwise peaceful day – perhaps buy a newspaper in town and drink himself stupid.

* * *

_Only alive; _worth almost a million in belly for her return. Samira huffed in annoyance, crumpling the poster in her tight fist. _How very thoughtful, _she believed – the currency was foreign to her, but Samira had no doubts about the validity of such a price. Still, the newspaper – delivered via News Coo – made it as far west as Slab town, a bizarre and lawless place on the Paradise side of the Grand Line.

The adaptable young woman had arrived at the docks earlier, received the paper, and was shocked to see her picture amongst the faces of notorious pirates. She needed to restock her supplies and leave. To where, Samira wasn't sure, but she had to keep moving.

A saloon in the middle of town caught her eye. Samira figured the bartender could provide her with some information and possibly a cold drink. She entered, not expecting much from such a foreign drink house, but was pleasantly surprised to see how clean and lively the establishment was.

Very few people were inside, eating delicious smelling foods and drinking. Calm music played in the background from a self-playing machine that Samira had never before seen. She stared in awe at it for a moment, then approached the bar.

Taking a seat, she noticed a series of wanted posters on the wall, and was horrified to see that her picture was amongst them. Samira quickly veiled her face beneath the hood of her desert cloak and waved down the bartender.

"Can I get ya anything, sweetheart?"

She seemed like a civil woman – dressed in tight clothing that left nothing to the imagination. Samira eyed her foreign yellow hair – overflowing from a tall, leather hat – and bobbed her head.

"A water please, and maybe some information." Samira sat the correct amount of currency on the table and hoped the busty woman could understand her. The language of her people was much different from the assorted dialect that she had heard while traveling the sea.

"Sure thing, but what kind of information are ya wantin' to know? We don't get many visitors 'round here, other than bounty hunters."

"Bounty hunters?" She'd never heard of them before.

The woman briefly gestured with her head to a table in the far corner of the bar. "Like them fellas over yonder. They hunt bounties and turn them into the Marines for belly. The more dangerous the pirate, the higher the bounty."

Samira nodded to show that she understood. She just assumed that the Marines hunted their own, but it made sense. This just meant that she'd have to be careful of the hunters from now on. Samira peaked over her shoulder to take a glance. Other than being armed to the teeth, the hunters looked like regular people. She frowned; nothing was ever simple.

"Are you a hunter too?"

The woman puckered a brow. At first, she didn't understand, but once Samira gestured to the posters on the wall, she knew exactly what she was asking.

"Oh no. Them are just for show," she chirped. "The owner puts them up to please the bounty hunters who pass through. No one here has the guts to lift a finger whenever one of them pirates comes into town."

_I suppose that's why it's a lawless town. The pirates don't bother them, and they don't get the Marines involved._

Samira accepted her mug of water and took a long sip. She didn't want to seem like a glutton, chugging it down, but she was real thirsty. Which brought about her next question.

"Where can I buy supplies around here? And about how long will it take for the log pose to reset?"

"About a day or two," the bartender answered with a laugh. "As for supplies, the shop at the end of the street is about as good as we have. Tell old man Rider that Lula sent ya, and he should give ya a good deal; Lula is my name by the way."

Samira gently smiled – some of the people she'd met during her journey weren't so bad. Lula seemed pretty nice. She felt sort of bad for not introducing herself, but she had no option. Instead, she offered the helpful blonde an extra belly and drank down the remainder of her water. It was about time for her to depart; she'd wasted a lot of time talking to Lula, and Samira still had much to do.

Giving her thanks, she waved so long and ambled towards the saloon doors. A man with a large bird cage on his shoulders nearly backed into her as he stumbled about intoxicated, but she dodged him easily. Sadly, while her attention was diverted, someone with a newspaper in front of their face walked in and sideswiped her, knocking her onto her side – a heap of articles fell on top and around her.

"Damn … sorry. I was––

The lumbering man cut himself off as Samira glanced up at him, cursing in her native language. She could see that his cheeks were pink.

"You're real pretty," he said suddenly. A brown skinned goddess with hair the color of snow – Shachi had never seen a woman so exotic as the one staring up at him in annoyance. He snapped out of his stupor and realized that he had made a mess of his paper and hastily tried to pick it up. Bounty posters were everywhere.

"Let me get these off you. I feel like a complete assho––

This time, it was the man with the cage on his shoulders who cut him off.

"That's her … you're the girl on this picture." He waved the bounty in front of him, catching the attention of the hunters in the bar.

Samira gasped in shock. She didn't realize that her hood had fallen down, revealing her face to the patrons of the saloon. Rushing to pull it back over her face, she jumped to her feet and hurried out the doors.

* * *

Shachi was still in awe as the bounty hunters rushed out of the saloon after the strange, beautiful woman. The bartender shouted at them to pay for their food and drinks, but they were already gone. He glanced down at the floor, seeing the abandoned poster of the woman and picked it up to read it. Shoe prints decorated her frowning face, but he could still make out her golden brown skin and deep red eyes.

Her name was Amunet Samira, and she had a bounty of almost a million on her head. The only thing Shachi felt was odd about her poster was that the disclaimer read: alive only. She was no pirate, and because of him, the hunters were going to capture her and turn her into the Marines. He cursed and bounded up, racing out the swinging doors.

The streets were crowded with curious people, so it didn't take him long to figure out which way she and the hunters had went.

_Hold on, pretty lady. I'll save you._

* * *

Cornered; she was cornered.

The hunters had chased Samira half way across town and into a dead end street. She couldn't return to the harbor, because the log pose hadn't set yet. Even if she managed to detach her tiny boat, she couldn't navigate without her log pose. This was all she could think to do; run and hope she could lose them. But she couldn't.

Each of the hunters surrounded her, weapons drawn. The man with the bird cage stayed at a distance from her, while the others coordinated in a language she couldn't keep up with. Trapped in a corner, Samira felt like a wild animal. She didn't know where else to go.

"Leave me alone," she hissed. Her fingers tightened around the extendable, steel baton attached to her belt. "I mean it. Turn around and go away."

A man with a sword approached her, clicking his tongue. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. The boys and I will take good care of ya. Be a good girlie and come here; make it easy for yerself."

They weren't listening. Samira let the swordsman get close enough to reach out and touch her before she pulled the pin that kept her weapon condensed. Pivoting it hard to the right, she whacked the hunter upside the head, grimacing as his teeth shattered and flew out of his mouth with a spurt of blood.

His body fell to the dirt ground, knocked completely out. She wasted no time and sprang over the fallen swordsman, swinging her baton at the closest hunter – a man with nasty scars on his face. Samira managed to strike him on the shoulder, and hit another dead center in the chest with the point before someone from behind snatched her weapon, causing her to lose her balance.

All at once the hunters seized her. She cried in anger as her baton was tore from her hands and discarded. They shoved her roughly into the giant bird cage and locked it tight, staring through the bars at her as she kicked and shook them in an attempt to free herself.

The anger in her rose, and she tried so very hard not to let it consume her, but she was desperate to be free. Collecting her bounty was the only thing the hunters cared about – they had no idea where she came from and where she'd go back to if they turned her in. Samira couldn't return home; she just couldn't.

Her tender hands began to send out chaotic energy, a red and black force that wavered like unconfined flames. It danced across her skin until her entire body was consumed. Focusing on her anger, she knew the energy would release at once in an unlimited scale. It worried her that she would hurt the hunters, but like a frightened animal caught in a corner, she had no other option but to fight.

At the peak of her gift, however – and while the hunters were stupefied by her magic – someone crept up and attacked them. Samira gasped in shock and forced the energy back inside herself, breathing deeply to calm her anger. She collapsed in exhaustion against the bars of the cage and watched the stranger beat down the hunters with kicks and fluid movements that she had never before seen. The man carrying her cage decided to abandon her on the dusty, warm ground, and ran for it. She too would have, if not for the exhaustion coursing through her body. Her strange ability took a lot out of her.

With all of the hunters defeated, Samira was left alone with her foreign savior. She was pleasantly surprised to see that he was the same man from the saloon; the red head with the blue and red hat.

Shachi dusted off his hands and directed his eyes towards the toppled bird cage. Samira was inside, watching him with uncertainty in her deep red eyes. Heat spread across his face again.

"Got to you just in time," he said.

Approaching the barred prison, he set it upright and bent down to her level. The door was sealed with a padded lock.

_What to do? What to do?_

He searched the ground, hoping that one of the hunters had dropped the key in haste, but he assumed the man who got away was the one who held the object he needed to release her.

"I don't suppose you have a spare, do you? No … that's okay. I'll figure something out."

Shachi laughed at his joke. He was trying to make light of the situation, but he could see how awkward he made it by the look on her scared and worn out face. Assuming that he only had one option, he stood and stared down at the lock. It looked a little rusted, so he hoped that his idea would work.

"Lean as far back as you can," he ordered. When she didn't respond, he smiled gently. "Trust me, sweetheart. I'm going to help you."

Samira was still unsure. It was his fault she had been captured in the first place, but if this was his way of making it up to her, the red eyed woman had no reason to complain. Not like she was in the position to anyway. Samira scooted as far back from the opening as she could manage and curled her legs up against her chest. A bit of curiosity filled her.

Once she was safe and out of the way, Shachi balanced himself on his left foot and spun around, booting the lock. It fell apart like he had hoped and clattered to the ground.

"Tada!"

"How did you do that?"

Samira was in awe. She pulled herself from the cage and stretched her sore limbs – her body was a little wobbly still.

"Martial arts; it's no big deal." Shachi was proud of himself. He gestured to the swordsman knocked out on the ground. "You do that?"

She bobbed her head. _Martial arts. _She'd never heard of it before. "I've had some training, but nothing like your style."

"Pretty cool, isn't it?"

Again she nodded. Nearly forgetting that this man saved her life, Samira extended her arm and offered it to him. "I am Samira. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for saving me."

Shachi shook her hand. "Pleasures all mine. Shachi is my name, and no need to thank me. I'd never forgive myself if I let a pretty woman like yourself get hurt because of something I brought about."

"It was an accident, but thankfully it's all over. We can get back to our responsibilities now," Samira said. She took back her hand, feeling how reluctant the man was.

"Going so soon?"

Samira replied with a nod. "I have places to go." _People to be away from._

"All on your own?"

He knew that he was being nosy, but honestly he couldn't help it. This was the first time a woman had reacted to him – apart from Ikkaku – and he didn't want to say his farewells so soon.

Again, she nodded. Samira collected her fallen baton and clipped it back onto her belt.

Shachi caught a glimpse of ink around her bare waist before her cloak fell into place.

_She has a tattoo … so cute._

As she faced him again, embarrassed heat spread across his face. She was gently smiling at him.

Samira moved in front of him and stood up on the tip of her toes, softly kissing his face. He was stiff as a statue, unspeaking, so she left him there.

"Farewell, my brave."

* * *

The northeast harbor where Samira docked her boat was silent upon her return. Like a ghost town in a horror story, everyone seemed to have vanished. The curious woman checked her wrist, looking at the arrows on the Log Pose spin uncontrollably – it made no sense. Where were all the people? Their ships were still secured to the dock, but not a soul was onboard.

Samira slowed down her pace and searched for her little boat, sensing that something was not right. Seeing it near the end of the pier – right where she left it – she moved towards it, craving a few hours of sleep after the hectic events that transpired today, but something odd caught her attention; something small was fluttering near the bow. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see it better.

_A butterfly? _Its wings were orange and black with ashen spots. Nothing seemed unusual about it, until Samira caught a glimpse of its dark brown hair and thick fluffy tail. She knew exactly who this was. _But it can't be her._

Samira tried to slowly back away, but the unusual creature vanished. She made a quick grab for her baton, wrapping her slender fingers around it, until a high pitched voice halted her.

"That was a very clever plan," said the woman. "Stealing that Log Pose. I doubt those poor fishermen even realized that you had switched them."

Samira felt a light weight on her shoulder – the woman was standing on her. "I had no choice. The last island was a three day wait. I couldn't risk it; not with you on my trail."

"Have you any idea how much of a nuisance you are? We had to dirty our hands just to catch up to you."

_We? _Before she had time to figure out who the creature was referring to, the dock shook with a sudden impact and knocked her over. Samira rolled onto her stomach and tried to calm her unsteady heart. However a hole in the wood beneath her revealed the question from earlier she had been trying to figure out. Where were all the people?

They were beneath the surface of the water, anchored to the ocean floor.

Samira gasped in shock and bounded to her feet – all those people were massacred, because of her. She felt anger and remorse swell inside of her, but not wanting to lose control, she tried to stay calm.

"The hell was that for? You almost blew me away, dunderhead."

Samira stared at the two. The tailed woman curled up her pointed nose and struck at a short and very obese man with black hair.

"Very sorry, Miss. I did not see you there, ribbit." His large, round eyes narrowed in remorse. He reminded Samira of a frog with his round cheeks and obtrusive makeup. "But have you already forgotten what our mission is? The Boss would be very upset if we failed because you forgot."

Again, she struck at him. However, her punches seemed to be ineffective, as the frog man stood and took them with no indication that he had been harmed.

"I know what the mission is. Don't lecture me," she hissed. Fluttering her wings in annoyance, she landed on his shoulder and gave Samira a spiteful look. "Our mission is to capture the brat, and she wont be escaping us this time."

Samira reached for her baton and pulled the pin, holding its extended form in front of herself. This made the short woman snicker in laughter, but she ignored it.

"I don't want to hurt anyone else. Can't you understand that? I just want to be good."

The frog man croaked. "Why do a silly thing like that? You are a weapon, ribbit. Just look at the people you have already hurt, and you have not even raised a finger."

She knew what he meant without even having to look; the bodies they hid beneath the water. He was right though; she got them killed. If she had not tied her ship at this dock, they would have not been in danger. It hurt more than she could handle, being held responsible for such a tragedy.

A familiar sensation came to life in side of her, and before she could pacify it, the chaos peeked and released itself. It came in waves and destroyed the dock, knocking Samira back. Her baton fell into the water with a loud plop.

Feeling worn down and ready to collapse, she urged herself to get up and run. The two hunters seemed too busy to notice as she ran up the hill towards the cliff side. Samira wasn't sure where to go, but she didn't stop, not even when a sharp pain tore through her right leg.

The world around her seemed to spin, instantly merging colors that made her feel dizzy and sick. She stumbled around aimlessly until her feet went numb and she collapsed. Except, her body did not meet the ground like she expected. It fell straight down; straight off the cliff side towards the water.

The last thing she remembered before she passed out was the sound of a familiar voice calling out her name.


	2. Bound by Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samira is a mystery; a woman whose past shackles her with tragedy. Law has seen this misery before, in the eyes of his reflection every time he looks in the mirror.

As fate would have it – sarcastically speaking – she hurtled like a fallen angel back into his life. It was a little strange, when he took the time to think about it, but not as much as it first appeared. Samira was intended to cross paths with him, which was funny, because he never believed in destiny before.

  
And yet, something powerful was at work here; something that wanted him to meet her.

  
That’s why he thought she was an angel; no two people just casually found one another after deviating paths. He was meant to be far away from this place, and she was meant … well to be a figment of his imagination. His crew thought he was drunk – thanks to a certain loud mouthed woman he wanted to rope up and use as Sea King bait. 

  
Which came as a shock to them whenever Shachi brought her on board; she was not a delusion caused by his intoxicated mind. She was real – out cold, but real. The cheeky man wanted to rub this fact deep into their unintelligent faces, but he could wait. His angel was in serious need of medical attention.

  
She had a broken arm – the skin was swollen and the bone was close to breaking through. Shachi figured she landed roughly when she hit the water. It made him nervous to think that she may have slammed into the rock face on the way down. Although the drop wasn’t fatal, approximately 20 meters above the water – if Shachi had to guess – a height such this was still powerful enough to shatter bone. Her condition might be worse than he originally thought, and with little time to take her to the doctor on the island, a dicey idea came to mind.

  
“Captain … the Captain. Someone go and call for him,” he cried out in haste. Shachi honestly didn’t care who; he simply wanted it done.

  
Bepo – who was on deck – went to retrieve him, uttering a noise of concern beneath his breath as he descended into the mechanical bowels of the Polar Tang. Everyone else – Penguin included – stood and watched; as to why, it was obvious.

  
Law was repulsed by the notion of helping people. The exception, of course, was his crew and those who benefited him by doing so – Monkey D. Luffy for example.

  
Relying on his connection with Law – as a member of his crew – he hoped that the doctor would mend her broken bones; no favor included.

  
But just in case, he had something to sweeten the pot.

  
Her wanted poster was hidden in the lining of his suit. He kept it because Ikkaku never would have believed him otherwise; she denied it despite the proof and thus the rumor of him being drunk was made. Oh how sweet the rights to boast would be, if only again would Samira open her sad eyes. Her smile was all he wanted, but that depended on his Captain.

  
Her life was literally in Law’s hands.

  
Which is why he felt nervous as said man walked out onto the deck – Bepo followed closely behind him. He met his Captain’s tired stare, determined to put up as much of a fight as he could, but Law didn’t seem like he was in the mood to deal with this right now. Knowing that he’d fail to reason with the man, Shachi bit his bottom lip between his teeth.

  
“It’s all my fault this happened. I got her involved with the bounty hunters in town,” he explained. His fingers brushed her damp wet hair from her troubled face. She was warm; a fever, he assumed.

  
Law grunted; his crew was bad about getting into trouble. It was not his problem what became of the girl, but Shachi seemed to be terribly concerned about her safety. It annoyed Law; his crewmate probably would not let her go without seeing her well.

  
“Jean … how soon can we leave this island?” 

  
Law kept his stern gaze on the girl. He failed to notice the troubled look his red haired crewmate gave.

  
A mountain of a man quietly answered him. “Right now; on your order, Captain.”

  
“Then let’s make haste. Get ready to submerge.”

  
His crew – everyone but Shachi – quickly began to prepare, withdrawing into the sub. Law himself wanted to go back to his studies, but stopped short of doing so and looked over his shoulder. He felt like chores were a suitable enough punishment for dragging him into this mess.

  
“We’ll talk about your punishment later,” he stated with a grin. “For now, take her to operating room so I can have a look at her.” 

  
Shachi nodded with a frown – punishments when given by his Captain were the worst; weeks’ worth of hard labor – and lifted her into his arms. She was a tiny thing compared to him, which made him coo in delight as he followed his crew into the sub.

  
The door was sealed behind him; the sun replaced by the dim flicker of lamp light as he navigated through the narrow corridors. Reaching the medical room, Law was already there, wearing a pair of white surgical gloves. 

  
He motioned to a bed made with clean sheets and let Shachi place the girl down. She was quickly hooked up to a series of machines – an IV and pulse oximeter; including many others. Her shallow heart rate alerted Law, but to figure out why, he needed to strip her of the clothing that restricted his view.

  
“Put on a pair of gloves and open her cloak,” he ordered his crewmate.

  
_He wants me actually stay and help?_ As much as Shachi wanted to know why he didn’t want to miss the chance to see his angel without her cloak on. He was not a pervert – Ikkaku would say otherwise – and no harm came from looking. So without thinking too much into it, he did as his Captain had asked.

  
“What’s her name?”

  
Shachi glanced at the tired man in shock before he realized that Law was recording her information down. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking; perhaps small talk to lighten the mood.

  
“Amunet Samira,” he answered with a brief smile. Foreign as her name was, it was no less beautiful. “She is … an outsider I believe. When I knocked her over in the bar she hissed something at me in a language that I had never heard before.”

  
“She’s bilingual then?”

  
Nodding in agreement, Shachi laughed softly. “Yeah, and not bad with a baton either. She knocked a bounty hunter completely out before I came to her rescue.”

  
_Not just another pretty face._ Law cautioned himself; she was attractive, of course, but the hunters were after her for some reason – he’d find out sooner or later, he’d be sure of that.

  
“How did you meet her? I want to understand how she came to be on my sub.”

  
“At the bar; I met her there,” Shachi answered. His face exploded with embarrassed heat as he recalled the way she looked at him so hatefully in that moment. He’d been awestruck. “I dropped my newspaper and her bounty poster was amongst the others.”

  
_Bounty poster?_ Law glanced down at the girl. _This frail looking thing?_ He hadn’t the time to look through the new batch he got from Uri earlier, which annoyed him, because had he known that she was trouble, he would have demanded she be removed from his sub immediately. He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to continue listening to the story – sometimes his eagerness to plan ahead landed him an even bigger headache when life threw a kink at him.

  
“… I like blew her mind with my style of martial arts – she was so amazed that her eyes lit up – but she insisted we part ways; places to go is what she said. I lost track of her after that and returned to my duties,” the prattling red head explained. He sighed in pity and took her limp hand in his. “But then she fell off the cliff side. I heard Penguin yell when it happened and before I even understood what I was doing, I leapt into the water. Imagine my surprise when I pulled her from the depths; it was like fate.”

  
Law wasn’t sure fate was the word to describe it; dumb luck was more like it. The girl couldn’t have known his crew had moved the Polar Tang from the port once they were stocked up on supplies. Her timing was impeccable. One minute later and they would have submerged; Amunet Samira would have drowned.

  
One little thing still eluded him, however. Shachi had to have worked on her when he pulled her from the water; she was breathing and the machines showed that her pulse was there, but something was keeping her from regaining consciousness. Law wasn’t sure just what had happened to her, but he had a hunch that she was still awake before she hit the water. Her body was much too tense for a person who was supposed to be unconscious.

  
As a doctor, Law had to know why, even if he had to disassemble her body to find out. He tapped her chart against the machine next to him and gestured for Shachi to remove her cloak – it was not good for her to still be wrapped up in it. 

  
“Let us make haste. She may be in a lot worse shape than either one of us had first thought.”

  
Shachi nodded in agreement. He quickly unfastened the press-stud beneath her chin and opened up the thick, ruined fabric. The ink on her waist was nearly exposed; he was truly eager to see it.

  
Only, what he saw was far more than he originally expected. A rocking body with a cute tattoo was one thing, but this; this was a gold mine.

  
“Is … is that––

  
Law could not believe his eyes. Shimmering jewels; her clothing was decorated with them. There were so many, he surmised that his crew might be able to live comfortably on them for a while. Even her wrists and ankles were adorned with gold and silver bangles.

  
“Can we … I mean … should we take them?”

  
Law grinned; of course they should. 

  
“Later; ignore them for now. I’ll have Ikkaku collect them once we’re done,” he ordered. Her safety came first; payment later. It was the least he could do. 

  
Furthermore, her tattoos interested him. Law traced a gloved finger across a series of blue dots and lines that covered her left wrist down to her knuckles. He had never seen markings like this before; they were unique.

  
“What do you think it means?”

  
Law narrowed his eyes. “This particular method looks ancient; indigenous even. Frankly, I’m not sure.”

  
What captivated him the most was the other tattoo; a serpent coiled freely around her waist. 

  
It was different than the previous one; not as unique, but more of an attention grabber. The drawing was very detailed, all down to the very last scale. Many of them were hatched with a wide black edge so that the scales aligned to form broken V-shapes of uneven length. This led him to believe that the scarlet eyed snake was meant to be painted as a warning for those who saw it; a warning to keep away from this girl.

  
The idea of something so innocent being so fatal unsettled Law. He figured the only way to insure the safety of his crew was to lock her away until he knew she would not be a threat.

  
“What’s this thing?”

  
Law glanced at the long, thin object his crewmate was holding. It appeared to be a dart attached to a transparent base that was shaped like the head of a frog. Inside the base was a mucus like substance that until tested he didn’t want Shachi to tamper with.

  
“Where did you find that? And be sure not to pierce your skin with it; the liquid could be poisonous.”

  
Shachi went pale and set the object into a small metal dish. “I pulled it from her leg.”

  
Did someone try to kill her with poison? It made no sense to the concerned red head. The disclaimer on her bounty poster suggested that whoever was looking for her wanted her alive. Why do it? Why attempt to kill her? So much belly was involved; more than enough to keep a small crew comfortable for months.

  
“I don’t understand,” Shachi groaned. She was more valuable alive then dead.

  
Strangely enough, neither did Law. He was clever, but this girl was an mystery. What secrets did she hide? 

  
“Leave us,” the Captain ordered. “Return to your duties, and when I’m done you can move her to my room. She’s too much of a threat to allow unsupervised.”

  
Puckering out his bottom lip, Shachi agreed with a nod. He saw her first – she kissed his cheek – but he understood the concerns of his somber captain. The crew and it’s safety came first. Yet, her safety was all he could think about. 

  
He just hoped Samira wasn’t beyond help.

* * *

Waking suddenly, her eyes moved frantically around the room. It was unfamiliar to her; nothing was how she remembered it.

  
Samira tried lifting up, but her body felt weak. Therefore, she rested into the mattress of the comfy bed and found her bearings. What did she know? She knew that demons from her past resurfaced and tried to drag her back to hell with them – metaphorically speaking. They almost succeeded, but her strange power saved her.

  
_But then how did I get here?_ Where was here? From her position on the bed – if she glanced to the right – she could see a metal desk; barren with the exception of a stack of thick books on its glossy surface. There were no pictures on the walls, nor any keepsakes to articulate the interests of the person whose bedroom she was inhabiting, but she could tell that whoever they were – he or she – kept the room clean and private.

  
To be honest, it was more like an office than a bedroom.

  
_Someone’s bedroom,_ she thought. As startling as this was to her, Samira had figured out the where to her question. But how? Did the owner of this room find her? All she could remember was falling; that and whatever illness became of her before she passed out. _Strange._ The illness was gone.

  
But then why did her body feel so heavy and weak?_ I could almost go back to sleep. This bed is wonderful._ Samira sighed in bliss and closed her tired eyes. Maybe she would; just for a little while anyway. She still needed to figure out who saved her and where they had taken her.

  
Before she drifted off to sleep, the door across the room opened with a loud creak and someone came in. Samira kept her eyes shut, but she could hear them move around, like they were familiar with the layout – probably the owner of the room, she speculated. Once they left, she peaked across the room and noticed a tray on top of the desk; a tray that wasn’t there before. A bowl of something warm sat on top of it.

  
Her stomach felt empty. When was the last time she had eaten? Samira couldn’t remember. She was hungry, though. All thoughts of sleep had left her.

  
Trying again, she all but threw herself in the floor to get up. She was able to pull the covers back and move into a sitting position with her feet on the floor, but something caught her eye and stopped her progress. She was dressed in a fresh set of clothing; a basic colorless shirt and a pair of cotton sweatpants. Where was her previous set? Even the bangles around her wrists and ankles were missing.

  
_They wouldn’t have taken them … or would they have?_ None of that mattered right now. Baby steps. 

  
Samira pushed herself onto her feet and moved slowly over to the desk; her legs were shaky and numb. She managed to make it, but figured that eating at the desk would be a lot easier than moving the tray back to the bed – that was a risk she did not want to take. Resting in a plush swivel chair, she began to down the warm broth.

  
Before she finished, and without warning, the door swung open again. A gasp of shock escaped from her as she was caught off guard and in mid swallow. Samira choked on the broth, covering her mouth so not to spit it out and onto the desk. It took her a minute, but she was able to catch her breath and shoot a frustrated glare at the person who dared to sneak up on her. 

  
He was a slim man; one of tall stature, dressed in a yellow hoodie with black sleeves that he kept rolled up. Several tribal styled tattoos decorated his arms, but what concerned Samira the most was the emblem printed on his chest. It looked familiar to her; not this design – with its six T-shaped protrusions – but something close to it. She couldn’t quite remember were she had seen it before, but something about it brought dread to her.

  
_A pirate … that’s what he is._ That was the reason her bangles were missing; he stole them.

  
Samira cursed in her native language and spat at him. Whatever he wanted from her, couldn’t have been good.

  
“That’s not a polite way to thank someone who just saved your life,” he said in a casual tone. 

  
She snorted in appall. “Not without a price. I have sympathy for the souls who fall victim to your good will; unconscious or not.”

  
A smile lifted his lips. “I never claimed to be a generous man, Amunet-ya. You just had the terrible luck of falling into my care.”

  
_He knows my name._ The alarmed expression on her face made his smile grow.

  
Law sat on the edge of his bed and gave her a quick glance over. She looked better, although her eyes were clouded with exhaustion and fear.

  
“That is your name, right? Amunet Samira; at least your bounty poster says it is.”

  
“It tells the truth,” she confirmed. Toying with the edge of her top, Samira tried to figure out a way to evade the questions she knew he was going to ask. He may have saved her, but somethings were better left unsaid.

  
“Do I get to know the name of the man who saved my life?”

  
Yes, her mood corrected, but only because she knew that she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Pirates rarely ever listened to sense, or took well to being yelled at. He saw her bounty poster, so he knew just how important she was. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

  
“Trafalgar Law,” he answered curtly. “But it wasn’t me who saved you; not solely. A crewmate of mine, Shachi was. He fished you from the ocean and brought you aboard my sub.”

  
_Sub … what the hell is that? And did he say that Shachi was the one who saved me?_ Her eyes widened in admiration; _beldi al-shajaan (my brave)._

  
“I am thrilled to hear that; he is a good man. Mester (mister) Trafalgar, was it? If you would allow it, I’d like to thank him properly.”

  
Law sighed in displeasure. She was good at changing the topic when it suited her; it annoyed him. He’d definitely have to keep her on track if he wanted to learn more about her. It felt strange for him to admit this, but something about Samira interested him. Her eyes held a sense of understanding in them – tragedy that he was all too familiar with.

  
“Another time perhaps,” Law replied as he stood up. “Use my room until you get better. The next island is about a five day sail from here.”

  
Samira brushed her bristly white hair behind her ear – she really needed a warm bath. “What then? What do you and your crew plan to do with me once we arrive?”

  
“Turn you in,” he said with a controlled smile. “But until then, enjoy your stay aboard my sub, Amunet-ya. I look forward to collecting your bounty money.”

  
Her face paled. Every nerve in her body was screaming for her to act; escape before it was too late. She could use her power, but with little knowledge of the crew’s whereabouts, she might end up killing a few. A controlled blast was out of the question. What could she really do? Maybe she could get him to sympathize with her.

  
“You don’t understand,” she said with a gloomy sigh. “I can’t go back, and I can’t explain why, but if he finds me, everyone is as good as dead.”

  
_As good as dead? And who is he?_ Law was confused. He shed a little light on the mystery of why someone put out a bounty poster for her, but at least a hundred more questions came to mind. Just who the hell was she? What trouble did Shachi bring aboard his sub?

  
“Get some rest, Amunet-ya.”

  
With this, he left her to her thoughts. A smile grew on his face as he ambled down the empty corridor towards the galley. She was a mystery indeed. A possible danger to his crew and to him, but either way, he was going to make a lot of belly off her.

* * *

“Lost her, you said?”

  
Mariposa pressed her lips together. Her tiny wings fluttered in anticipation, but she doubted she’d get a slap on the hand for her resent mess up.

  
Again she failed to capture the brat. _Stupid … so very stupid._

  
“She used her power on us. Mr. Toad got the worst end of it, but he managed to paralyze her with one of his Froggie Darts before she fled into the woods,” she explained softly.

  
A soft hum filled the line. The baby transponder snail mocked this gesture; it’s black painted lips pressed into a thin line.

  
“I fail to see how you two lost her then? You do understand that she is a valuable asset to us? The buyers have been asking for another demonstration of her power, and we have nothing to show them.”

  
The small woman frowned. It wasn’t her fault the brat escaped. Arsenio was supposed to capture her; she was only meant to spread her scales in case she fled again, so they could easily track her.

  
“Are you having trouble hearing me, Mari? I believe a question was asked.”

  
“No sir. We lost her the moment she was picked up by a crew of pirates in a yellow submarine. My scales can not be tracked beneath the ocean, so I am having trouble confirming a location,” she chirped in fear. This man caused her skin to crawl. 

  
The transponder snail hummed again. “A yellow submarine, you said?”

  
Again she fluttered her wings in anticipation. “Yes sir. Do you know of it?”

  
“Only in rumors,” the deep and calm voice said with a sigh. “It is navigated by a crew whose captain is famous in the north; a man named Trafalgar Law. He is a dangerous and crafty pirate. It is unfortunate that the asset landed in his care.”

  
Law; she wasn’t familiar with the name. “On a brighter note, I know which port this Trafalgar will be anchoring in next. In two days’ time Mr. Toad and I can intercept them and take back the asset.”

  
“That is not necessary,” her boss stated. “Use the Eternal Pose and return back to the Isle. I have another job for you. Arsenio will be fine on his own. Tell him not to fail me this time. Do I make myself clear?”

  
She agreed with a nod. “Yes sir; crystal clear.”

  
The line immediately went dead, and the transponder snail went back to sleep. Mariposa bit her bottom lip – warm tears fell down her rosy cheeks.

  
_I can’t afford to bomb this mission. I don’t want to go back to that factory and end up a slave to that man again. Not like those weak fools and their sad excuse for a princess._

  
She took a deep calming breath. Now was not the time to cry. She had an important job to do. Her freedom depended on it.


	3. Through and Through

A day or so had passed aboard the Polar Tang – its peculiar name Samira learned from a short conversation she had with its captain; the only words she had spoken to him since her immediate confinement to his solitary room. Hard to determine while locked up – she tried the hatch door, but it was unfortunately bolted from the outside – Samira did not know whether in fact a day had passed or the entire trip had come and gone. All she knew was that lunch and breakfast were brought to her once a day, and only twice had this ensued.

  
Nonetheless, she feared the next time would be the last. Law neither mentioned or alluded to the allegation he made the first day she woke up aboard his sub – a foreign term she still did not grasp completely – to hand her over to the authorities. Her bounty was indeed generous, especially to money hungry pirates, such as Law and his crew. The missing bangles confirmed that. But the risk was not worth the reward offered for her return. 

  
Samira knew better; she was clever; the man who put the bounty on her head was also clever. The likelihood that he would give Law the reward was slim to none.

  
But how to ask the pirate captain to abandon this fruitless and simple attempt was beyond her. He would not so much as carry a lengthy conversation with her unless it pertained to the bounty, or her unexpected tumble from the clifftop. Samira was not ready to expose so much personal information about herself then she already had.

  
_No … it’s too risky to involve them; too selfish of me to hope for aid. _

  
She fell back onto the bed with her arm tucked beneath her; the one securely wrapped in a cast laid on the sheets at her side. It was close to lunch time. The flavorful smell of meat hung in the air – the vulgar growl of her stomach was nearly comical. She would have laughed, if not for the fact she was caged.

  
No. Samira didn’t think she would be given free reign aboard the sub; Law thought sensibly on this decision. He wanted to keep his crew from danger, and obviously – according to her lucrative bounty – she was a threat. True – the rampant force clawing away at her chest, pleading to be released, was not to be taken lightly – however being treated like a monster was not necessary. She was a liar, but not merciless. Her sought after power landed her into a whirlwind of misfortune; she wanted just once in her tragic life to be given a moment of rest.

  
What was so bad about wanting to be happy? The gods had a dark sense of humor.

  
_As gods often do. What plans I wonder do th––_

  
The hatch door shrieked in sudden protest and swayed open, disrupting her previous thought. Probably for the best; the gods often acted mindlessly when spoken or thought badly of. Samira rose up with a grunt just as Law entered, carting with him a plate and a tin mug, as he often did when lunch was served. Her stomach felt at ease; she’d get to stay another night. 

  
Eagerly she watched as Law laid the contents onto his writing desk, seating himself at the back. Neither spoke; they often met in silence – she ate or rested on the bed while he poured through hard to understand books on his shelves. The only time he talked was to give her orders in regards to her arm; checkups and aftercare. Samira thought he was either a patient man – opting not to badger her about the bounty, since she so politely told him it was an issue, she was neither willing or wanting to tell him about – or he no longer cared to learn from her the truth. Either way, she didn’t care. 

  
Samira pulled herself up and merrily ambled to the front of the desk, where she propped a folding chair up and sat with her legs beneath her. A smile pulled at her lips as she began to eat. The food was just as delicious as it looked – the meat of some kind of animal and fresh steamed vegetables. She hummed in delight.

  
“Are you always this loud when eating, or do you generally take pleasure in disturbing me?” 

  
She puckered a brow; obviously she wasn’t trying to be. Opting not to curse at him, Samira huffed a sigh and set down her fork. “It’s been so long since I’ve had food this good – life on the wire doesn’t give you very many options when it comes to eating; it’s eat light or nothing at all.”

  
“A lady as dangerous as yourself shouldn’t have much trouble acquiring a decent warm meal,” Law stated. He rested his cheek on his fist and stared tiredly at her. A smile pulled at his thin lips.

  
Samira rolled her eyes. He was one to yammer; annoying her. “Like it or not I’m not a terrible person. I lie and steal, but only because I have to.”

  
“I can’t imagine someone as charming as you being a fugitive.”

  
Her face warmed up. “Looks can be deceiving and furthermore, you don’t look the type either; a fugitive.”

  
“Like you said; looks can be deceiving.” 

  
He stood up and went over to a cabinet fastened to the wall of his room. It’s metal doors squeaked as he opened them and carefully removed a steel instrument tray, bringing it over to her. He watched as she looked, tensing up as she recognized the narrow and sharp tool that laid in two pieces inside.

  
“Like for instance,” Law said with a grin. “This was drawn from your person. Do you have any idea what it may be? I discovered trace amounts of poison in your blood; poison that causes paralysis to its victims. A toxin like this is hard to replicate without the right resources.” 

  
Samira narrowed her bright red eyes. _So that’s what happened to me. Arsenio shot me with a Froggie Dart – the bastard._ He nearly killed her; she could have drowned. A frustrated sigh let her mouth.

  
“That man I mentioned … he sent someone to trap me.” She took a rigid and deep breath, not wanting to continue. “And he nearly had me at the docks, but I got away. Ending up on your sub was a miracle; it bought me a head start, and I owe you. But trust me … if you don’t let me go on the next island your crew might be dragged into this mess.”

  
Law nearly laughed. He already took the poison from her system – it was a perk of his devil fruit ability – so he wasn’t too worried about the trapper coming after him or his crew. Shaking his head in disagreement, he smiled as her eyes clouded over with worry.

  
“Patience is a virtue of mine, you see. If he comes to me, then I don’t have to go far to turn you in.”

  
He swore the air grew thick; the hair on his arms stood up in excitement as a chill overtook him. But just as quickly as it came, the strange feeling vanished.

  
“Please reconsider,” she begged quietly. It took a lot of control to keep her power from bursting free. As money hungry as Law was, he still saved her life and she really didn’t want to hurt him. “There is no reward; trust me.”

  
Law sighed irregularly. “We’ll see.”

  
He left her at the desk and opened up the hatch door, leaning out into the hallway. Like he’d instructed earlier, Shachi was against the wall – hands in his pockets – waiting for the call. Law allowed him to enter and watched eagerly as Samira perked up when the red haired man said her name.

  
She leapt up and ran into his arms, hugging him gently. Shachi was tense, but he wrapped an arm around her too.

  
“It’s good to see you again,” she stated.

  
Much to his dislike, she put space between them. A smile lifted her lips; he nearly choked. 

  
_How did I get so lucky?_

  
“You too … good to see you I mean.”

  
Samira laughed. “Your captain told me you were the one who pulled me from the ocean. Thank you; I don’t know how to repay you. Twice now you’ve save me.”

  
“It’s no problem. And you don’t have to repay me. Seeing you alive and well is enou––

  
Law quickly interrupted him. “The two of you will have enough time to yammer tomorrow. For the remainder of her stay aboard my sub, she’ll be in your care. Show her around, put her to work, and bunk her with Ikkaku.”

  
“I’m not staying in here anymore?”

  
The Captain disagreed with a shake of his head. “Unless you want to share my bed, then no.”

  
Her expression was humorous. Despite her skin tone, Law could see a light shade of red cover her cheeks. He smiled as she turned her horrified gaze to the floor.

  
“That’s not going to happen,” she uttered.

  
An awkward laugh came from the red head in front of her. He lifted his hand and swatted at his leg. “Don’t worry, Samira. He doesn’t really mean it. Captain is real joker sometimes.”

  
She laughed awkwardly too. Somehow, despite his reassurance, she doubted it. He didn’t seem like the type to joke. She was pleased when Law ordered them away, and followed Shachi out into the narrow hall – the hatch door closed behind her.

  
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Samira mentioned. She waited until Shachi looked over his shoulder at her to continue. “What is a sub? Is that some kind of foreign vessel or something?”

  
Shachi chuckled at her lack of knowledge. He took her by the hand and led her to a port hole in the wall. She couldn’t see much, but the bright blue of the ocean. It was everywhere, like the sea opened up and swallowed them whole.

  
“This is going to sound strange, but we’re beneath the ocean right now. A submarine is a vessel that can travel under the water,” he explained.

  
Her eyes grew in awe. Foreign technology was amazing. Of course it scared her, but seeing it firsthand was like a dream. She gently bounced on her heels in excitement.

  
“I want to see everything. Please show me.”

  
Shachi smiled, bobbing his head. “As you wish, my lady.”

  
_My lady. Now that brings back memories._ Both good and bad. Her heart sank a little, but she buried it with a fake smile. While aboard the Polar Tang she was going to make the time she had left the best.

  
Freedom always had a price; Samira just didn’t know what price she’d have to pay to keep it.

* * *

Law was sure he had felt something inside him come to life; he could still sense it’s influence. His skin tingled and his heart thumped rapidly against his chest. It felt nice. 

  
His desire for revenge became madness – utter chaos – clawing at his chest.

  
_It came from her, the moment I said that. She’s a devil fruit user; a time bomb._

  
He bit his bottom lip between his teeth and shivered in eagerness. Just what was her power? And would he feel it again?


	4. Rusty Chains

Samira rocked her rounded hips to a foreign tune as she waited for the timer to activate on the dryer. It wasn’t hard work, despite her broken arm, but the quantity of dirty clothing made her head spin in doubt. She had never seen a pile so immense, and yet accustomed to the simple mechanics of the machine – Shachi taught her the effective way to use it – the pile never came to be done.

A curse, she alleged. The clothes had to be. How else were they amassing? Samira panted and brushed her lengthy white hair over her shoulder. It was sticky and musty beneath the engine room. Take away the music and she was confident that sooner or later she’d lose her mind.

In regards, Samira pressed the button to replay the piece once it ended. She resumed her dancing as the notes poured from the opening of the shark eye. Remarkable, this device was. Samira had never seen one before; Shachi called it a tone dial, a moon shaped shell decorated with russet bands that recorded sound and replayed it back. He revealed to her – when she asked – that a member of his crew bought the foreign dial at a merchant stall. It came preset with the tune, but could be recorded over if ever they found a piece better suited to their tastes. She hoped not; she honestly liked this tune. It lured her to dance.

The timer on the dryer went off with a loud buzz, and Samira returned to her work. She fished out the toasty polyester boiler suits and dumped them into a large rolling cart, then put in another soggy batch from the washer. Swaying over to the amassing pile on the floor, she gathered as much as her arms could tote, intending to wash another load, but a noise caught her attention.

Samira turned towards the stairs and saw Ikkaku there, watching her with a canny smile.

“Oh! I wasn’t aware you were standing there.” Samira laughed softly and filled the washer. She played off her shock incredibly well; her heart was honestly pounding.

Ikkaku ambled over and leaned against the machine. “Sorry for that, but I didn’t want to interrupt. You dance extremely well.”

“That … oh, that was just me swaying from side to side. There’s an entire dance that goes along with it,” she explained.

Samira was not timid when it came to music and dance. Her mother taught her plenty about the world; traditions and lore. Her favorite was learning the various styles of dance – she’d perform them in front of the people of her homestead. The one Ikkaku caught her doing was invented by her country.

“An entire dance, huh? Ya got to show me some time,” said woman chirped.

Samira agreed and leaned against the machine next to Ikkaku. She got along fine with said woman; they shared an honest sized room, and with the brief time given, they became quick friends. Samira didn’t reveal much about herself, other than her dislike of the crew’s uniforms, but Ikkaku didn’t share much with her either. She wanted to know how such an amiable woman came to be a pirate, but like herself, thought that whatever reason she had was her own business.

“Are these clothes cursed? They seem to be growing.”

Ikkaku gave her a look of shock, then laughed. “Almost seems that way, doesn’t it? But, no. Some of the crew in the engine room go through uniforms quicker than the others, so they dump them into the chute and they amass down here. Shachi did ya real dirty, making ya do this chore; though it’s better than others.”

“I’ll be sure to thank him when I see him again,” Samira huffed.

She would honestly like to see that; fortunately, she would. “We’re expected to reach the next island soon; a place called the Crocus Sea. Ask nicely and the Captain may let you come with us.”

“I’m certain he will,” Samira said darkly.

Law swore to hand her over to the authorities upon reaching the island. She knew nothing about him, but she assumed he was true to his word. Her heart filled with dread. Was there no way to sway his decision? Perhaps ask him to let her go. Samira hadn’t seen Law, or heard from him since he dispatched her from his care; her arm was evidently fine enough for him not to worry about.

“About how long do you suppose it will take to reach the island?”

Ikkaku hummed in thought. “Not sure, but trust me, you will know it when we get there.”

“Mester (mister) Trafalgar stays mostly in his room, correct? I need to speak with him about something.”

She wittingly smiled. “Remember to be nice.”

Samira agreed with a brief nod and hurried up the stairs. The engine room was vacant as she ambled down the narrow walkway, a rattling web of various metal devices at both her sides, but the air was still hot and sticky. She felt a significant difference as she excited the room and moved up a second flight of stairs. This set opened up into the crew bunks, the exact area she needed to be in. Law had a room at the end of the hall – thank the gods that Shachi gave her a tour, at least of the bottom levels.

The same hatch door Samira involuntarily spent time behind came into view. She stood in front of it for a moment, hesitant to knock, but the eager part of her, wanting to get this over with, brought down her fist in a series of gentle knocks. She waited patiently for Law to allow her in, then did so as he directed.

Law was seated at his desk, combing through a thick book; its title she couldn’t read. His eyes hardly lifted from its pages, but she knew that he was paying attention.

It surprised her even less that Law already knew why she was visiting him.

“Worried about my intentions with you?”

Samira sighed. “At first, of course, but I know that your plans for me have not changed. I came to ask for your permission to join the crew when they go onto the island.”

“Do you take me for an idiot?”

She grunted and shook her head. “I assumed that you’d come along, and I … will stay by your side the entire time.”

“That is something we can agree on. You can join us,” Law affirmed. He sat the book down on the desk top and grinned. “But under one condition.”

Samira narrowed her eyes. He agreed promptly; too promptly in her opinion. It crossed her mind that maybe he wanted her to ask, but Samira wasn’t for sure. She was concerned, but agreed nonetheless.

“The island we’re heading to is mostly uncharted. Its magnetic waves aren’t strong enough to record with a Log Pose, so on our way across the Grand Line, we paid it no mind. I have reason to believe that something of interest to me is on that island, but I also believe the island to be dangerous, therefore if you intend to tag along, I demand that you wear a suit,” he explained.

She pouted in defeat. “I should get ready then. Mutasakkir ‘awi (thank you very much).”

Samira dismissed herself, averse to the whole idea – mostly because of the bounty; partially because she strongly disliked the boiler suits. In any case, she needed to speak with Ikkaku before they surfaced.

* * *

“Told ya so,” Ikkaku hollered.

Despite her raising her voice over the alarm, Samira could not hear her. It howled across the sub like a monkey for a few minutes, then all at once ended. A sonorous voice replaced it, notifying the crew that the Polar Tang was surfacing. Samira removed her hands from her ears and gave Ikkaku an eager look.

“Can we go up now?”

She laughed. “Aye. The sub will resurface by the time we reach the upper level.”

Samira lurched forward with the first step – the leather boots she was given were heavy and hard to move around in – but steadied herself as she followed the teasing woman from their bunk. She witnessed a small number of the crew scurry from their shared rooms; some heading towards the engine room, and some heading up to the next level. Samira took the stairs and closely walked behind Ikkaku as she led the way. She had been on the upper level a few times with Shachi; its where the crew ate breakfast and dinner, an extensive galley with a fridge and well stocked pantry were also on this level.

There was even a large hatch double door that Samira was curious about. She never asked Shachi where it led, but she had an idea. It was wide open as she and Ikkaku made it to the top of the stairs; rays of warm and natural light leaked in. She smiled in excitement. They were at last outside.

Samira walked out onto the deck and took a deep breath. The fresh air was marvelous; it was thick and humid, but superb compared to the stale air inside the sub.

“Nice, don’t ya think?”

She agreed with Ikkaku and leaned back her head to glance up at the evening sky. The length of hair braided over her shoulder fell down her back as she did so. “Feels like forever since I’ve seen the sky. I don’t know how any of you can tolerate that muggy submarine for long periods of time.”

“You get used to it after so long,” Ikkaku mentioned. She looked around and sighed in disappointment. Her crewmates were fast at work, expecting one another to contribute. “I should help out, but explore if you want to. I don’t think the Captain will mind as long as you stay within his line of sight.”

Samira thanked her and walked over to the side of the sub. A black wrought iron railing kept her from tumbling into the swampy water below, yet she was careful not to lean over it as she peered down at the frame of the sub. Her eyes widened in shock. It was larger than she thought; a dynamic yellow craft that barely cracked the surface. She spotted the emblem on the far-left side, the same smiling face Law wore printed on his hoodie; the same emblem printed on her uniform. It bothered her that she couldn’t remember where she had seen it before. It was so unusual.

“What’s on your mind, Amunet-ya?”

She lurched in fear, then gave Law a glare. “Don’t sneak up on me. You about made me fall over.”

“I doubt that,” he stated. “But had you fallen in; you would have surely drowned.”

Samira pouted. “Some doctor you are. Wouldn’t even save me if I were to fall in.”

“Does that mean you can’t swim?”

She thought about it for a moment. No. She supposed that she never learned. “My country doesn’t have a lot of rivers or lakes, and the few it does have, well … it’s not safe to swim in them.”

Law rested against the railing in thought. That didn’t tell him much. Suppose he did toss her overboard. Would she sink, or swim? He was well aware of her wondering eyes on him.

“You’re staring,” he told her.

Samira felt her cheeks heat up. “I don’t mean to, but I don’t think I’ve seen you wear anything but a hoodie since I’ve been aboard your sub.”

He was dressed in a sea foam colored jacket with yellow linked bands over an open vest with a hood and a light gray shirt. Samira caught a glimpse of ink peeking out from the neck of his crew cut, but opted not to comment about it; most people had tattoos. 

“We’re venturing into a tropical moist forest, Amunet-ya. My choice of attire is not really your concern,” he retorted.

She agreed. “It’s not. I was making an observation is all.”

“Then you’re aware that your arms are supposed to go into the sleeves of the boiler suit?”

Samira rolled her eyes. Yeah, she knew. There was nothing wrong with tying them around her waist. She was wearing the damned thing, wasn’t she? Plus, she wore a loose-fitting shirt with bell sleeves to protect her arms.

“I can’t fit my cast through the armholes.”

Law grinned in enjoyment. “Then don’t cry to me when you get eat up by insects.”

“Tozz fiik (screw you),” she hissed.

He snorted. “Speak in a language that I can understand, Amunet-ya. I’d hate to exclude you from the party before you ever left the sub.”

“Aye, Meister (mister) Trafalgar,” she retorted with a pout.

She peered over the railing again. The sub appeared to be drifting down a wide bending river with an abundance of plant life on each side.

“Where is this river taking us?”

Law thought about keeping this information from her – she was all in all a visitor aboard his sub – but decided to keep her informed because she was going with them.

“The sub is moving to the other side of the island, but the plan is for us to disembark before then. Our helmsman will steer out to sea and watch for my signal to circle around and pick us back up,” Law explained slowly. “I told you earlier that the Log Pose can’t read the magnetic waves of the Crocus Sea because they’re too low, however on the island is different. The magnetic waves are exponentially higher.”

Samira understood to an extent. She knew a bit about navigating, forced to travel the sea on her own for some time. Once on an island, the Log Pose would reset. The given time in which this took varied.

“How long do you think it will take for the Log Pose to reset?”

Law was frank. “I don’t know enough about the island to answer that. You will need to be ready when I give the signal; we don’t intend to stop.”

“What’s the signal?”

She grunted in annoyance as he walked away, leaving her alone with unanswered questions. Samira mouthed a curse at him and continued her survey of the ship. At this time the crew had the sails lowered; two masts on the front and back levels of the deck showed the extent of the billowing wind. She watched them for a minute until her name was called; Shachi waved at her from the front deck, but remembering how dirty he did her, Samira playfully turned up her nose and ignored him. She didn’t catch his reaction, but she heard Ikkaku laugh as she stood beside her.

“Serves him right,” she chirped happily. “Keep this up, and he’ll be reduced to a blathering mess by the end of the day.”

Samira lifted her hand to her mouth and laughed. “He absolutely deserves it, but I hope he doesn’t take this too seriously.”

“He’ll be fine … come on; the party is meeting up top.” Ikkaku took her hand and led her back through the double hatch doors and back into the sub.

At the other end of the galley was a set of identical doors that opened up onto the upper deck. A small group of four were stationed there. Shachi and Penguin were among them – the latter she met shortly after Law released her from his care – including the doctor himself and a white bear wearing an orange boiler suit; it carried a large sword over its shoulder.

“Is the bear real?”

Samira was in awe. She had never seen a beast so cute in her entire life.

“As real as you and me, and he talks. His name is Bepo. You haven’t yet met him, because he mostly stays in the control room. He’s our navigator,” Ikkaku explained.

She quietly squealed and rocked her hips from side to side.

“He’ll be thrilled to hear that you aren’t scared of him,” the pirate mentioned with a smile. “He tends to get depressed easily, so if you speak to him, remember that.”

Samira frowned. Why ever would she be scared of him? Her country was filled with frightening beasts and terrible people. She doubted that Bepo was anything like them.

“Get ready to go ashore,” Law called out, breaking her thoughts.

She witnessed him walk over to the railing near the back of the deck and bounce something tiny and spherical in his hand. Samira looked to the horizon and noticed a small ship anchored near the bank. It was clearly a pirate ship. No one seemed to be on it though. Had it been abandoned? She barely had time to think before she was swallowed by a clear blue dome. Seconds later, she was staring at the Polar Tang as it sailed on by.

What just happened? Samira took an unsteady step and franticly glanced around. She and the others were on the deck of the abandoned pirate ship. But how?

“You okay, Samira?”

Said woman lurched forward in shock and gave Ikkaku a bemused look. “We were just on the sub. How did we get here?”

“Our captain has Devil Fruit powers,” she easily explained.

Devil Fruit powers?

“I don’t know what that means,” Samira replied. She had never heard of such a thing. Did Law really move them from one area to another with this power?

Ikkaku hummed in thought. “I don’t know too much about them myself, but some people even claim the eater of a Devil Fruit is cursed until death. The Captain would know more about it though.”

“Cursed … like me,” she uttered.

She and Law had more in common then she originally thought. Her eyes moved to said man as he spoke privately with Shachi and Bepo. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt connected to him somehow. Like heavy rusted chains were wrapped around them.

* * *

Bepo curled up his nose in disgust. The smell was too strong to ignore. He easily located the source as soon as his captain moved them onto the ship.

“It’s the same, isn’t it?”

Shachi knew he didn’t have to ask. It looked the same, a dart attached to a base that was shaped like the head of a frog. But what was it doing here? Lodged in the mast. And where was the crew? Penguin was still searching the insides of the ship as Law ordered as a precaution.

“Can you track the scent, Bepo? We need to find the crew,” Law directed.

Said bear whined in protest. “I can, but it stinks horribly.”

“Your nose will save us some time,” Shachi mentioned, nearly shoving the dart into his face. “So, suck it up buttercup and get to tracking.”

Bepo crooked his head and apologized. He coughed as the bitter smell invaded his nose. The scent went further into the forest.

“Northeast; that’s the strongest and most recent trail.”

Law sighed. He was hoping to find them closer to their ship. His eyes moved across the deck to Samira; she appeared distracted, staring at him in thought.

A grin curved his lips.

_Soon Amunet-ya. Real soon._


	5. Bones

Bepo breathed in the humid air of the forest and curled his nose up in disgust. The substance from the dart he found aboard the pirate ship was getting stronger the further in he trekked; the source was bound to be nearby, he assumed. A sense of hope rose in his chest. He honestly disliked this island. Something about it seemed beastly to him. No one was around, but it felt like eyes were on him, gauging him. His fur stood up in fear; he marched faster just to get this over and done with.

“Wait up. I was talking to you,” Shachi moaned. He raced to catch up, choking on a sob as he walked next to the bear. “What did I do wrong? I don’t understand.”

Bepo sighed. Was he still going on about this? Humans and their fixed ideas; the eeriness of the forest seemed more pressing to him, though a distraction from his thoughts might be just what he needed.

“Have you tried talking to her? She might appreciate you taking responsibility for your actions.”

The human woman Samira was the one Bepo was referring to. His crewmates had become enamored with her. She seemed nice – no hostel energy. He hadn’t spoken to her yet, but his captain made it evident that she was trouble, so he tried to stay clear of her. Even so, her dynamism with the others made him a little eager to start a conversation with her.

“Is she really worth the trouble?”

Shachi grunted. “Of course, and I haven’t done anything wrong; she just starting ignoring me. Ya know, you’re not very good at giving advice.”

“Sorry I can’t be any help,” Bepo apologized. He had no idea how humans worked. His fur ruffled in aggravation. “I can barely think with this smell up my nose, and not to mention this place is freaking me the hell out.”

He groaned and frantically rubbed his nose.

“Captain did say it was mostly uncharted,” Shachi mentioned, tone shifting. He crossed his arms over his chest, an icy chill made him shiver in fright.

Massive kapok trees hovered over him like giants; their trunks as wide as the mangroves back on the archipelago. Eerie noises echoed across their wide branches, that in his mind seemed to reach like hands down on him and his crew. Damn the bear for making his thoughts wonder.

“Yeah … me too. But once we find what the Captain is looking for, we can leave.”

Bepo sighed; he knew that. He didn’t however know what Law wanted with the crew of the abandoned pirate ship, but he assumed his reason had to do with Samira and the poisoned dart, or something he wasn’t sure was safe for the crew to know yet. In any case, Bepo was along for the ride.

“I hope we find them soon,” he mentioned with a gloomy whine. “It’s extremely too hot.”

* * *

_Poor dear. _

Samira frowned; Bepo was in obvious grief. If she was hot, she knew that he was bound to be. The boiler suit was keeping the insects out, but the heat was trapped inside the fabric. Her thighs were sweating, and she feared the material would eventually cause them to chafe. 

She dared a glance at Law – he was in no better shape – then removed the heavy satchel from her back, rummaging through it until she found a bottle of water amongst the supplies; there were three more, all sweating and a little warm.

“Mester (mister) Trafalgar. Do you mind if I or someone else gives this to Bepo? He looks as though he needs it.”

Law glanced at her in interest, then moved his gold eyes towards the bottle. A coy grin pulled at his lips. “How sweet of you, Amunet-ya. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

Her face warmed up. “I’d hope so. There’s more if you want one too.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. Have one if you want.” He motioned for Penguin to come near and ordered for him to take the bottle to Bepo – compliments of Samira.

She handed it over with a smile. Now that she was alone with Law – Ikkaku had to remain with the pirate ship – Samira had a question she had been wanting to ask.

“That power you have … how did you acquire it?”

Law grunted. “That’s not a story appropriate for this time, nor is my past any of your business. But to humor you, it came from a Devil Fruit; a mysterious fruit that can grant immense power to the eater.”

“Like a curse?”

He nodded to show agreement. “The sea hates you and will take your ability to swim. To some pirates that’s a heavy burden.”

“But is the power worth it? Does it bring more harm than good?”

Law gave her a heated look. He was curious about her motive – was she a devil fruit user? – but her questions were hitting home; bones he wanted to keep buried. She obviously knew nothing about what she was doing, but he still felt annoyance from her questions.

“It depends on the user,” he admitted with a sigh. “My power can do more than move us from one spot to another; it has medical purposes that suits me just fine.”

Samira widened her eyes in shock. It depended on the user, he claimed. She felt unsure, but her curse didn’t seem terrifying when explained like this.

“I … think I may have powers like yours.”

Law opened his mouth to respond, but Penguin ran back shouting his name.

“We have a problem. Bepo tracked the scent across the river, but it looks too deep to cross. It’s hard to tell with all the mud though,” he explained.

Samira glanced at Law for directive, but he merely nodded and sauntered towards Bepo and Shachi at the bank of the river; another time, she presumed. She felt like she was finally on to something.

“So Ikkaku is rubbing off on you, huh?”

She gave a curious look; Penguin gestured towards Shachi and mocked a pout, sobbing her name softly. Samira snorted in laughter.

“All me actually. He put me on laundry duty so he wouldn’t have to do it.”

Penguin laughed. “Nice. Ya got him pretty good too. I’ve never seen him so distraught.”

He didn’t blame her; Shachi was lazy. He did Penguin dirty a few times before. It was all in good fun; made it more entertaining to see Samira so into it – like she was one of them; a Heart Pirate. His smile faded. She wasn’t though; she was just a guest.

“Better see about that problem,” he mentioned awkwardly, walking off.

Samira gently smiled and trailed behind him to the river. She was in awe at it; the water was thick with mud and who knows what else; honestly, she couldn’t tell.

“We’re not swimming across this, are we?”

She felt as Bepo sounded; pessimistic. In no way did she want to do that.

“It’s sea water, despite the color. It empties into many small drainage points across the area; the water and mud seem to fertilize the trees,” Law guessed. This made the most sense to him. Swimming across it was not an option for him.

He groaned in annoyance and brought up his hand, forming a room. It was large enough to cross the river, but his endurance was taking a hit. Law picked up a rock and tossed it, then moved them once it landed on the other side.

Samira swayed back as a spell of dizziness affected her. She’d never been moved so quickly in her entire life; her stomach churned and she about fell over, but a sturdy hand caught her.

Bepo sat her back onto her feet and allowed Samira to lean on him a minute.

“Sorry, but I didn’t want you to fall in.”

She thanked him. “No reason to be sorry. You saved me from an unpleasant incident, Mester (mister) Bepo.”

His face heated up in embarrassment. “Take it as gratitude for giving me the water.”

Samira understood; not all of the crew trusted her. She was an enigma to them, offering no reason for them to trust her. It was better this way. Her business was her own. She nodded her head and moved to stand next to Law. He said nothing and pressed forward.

For the duration of the trek, Samira remained quiet. She followed Bepo through the forest, lost in her own thoughts. Her conversation with Law was forgotten for the moment, but his words had struck a chord in her heart. A sense of ease washed over her, but what concerned her was the weight of her awareness to the situation. How long had it been since she had felt this way? Months perhaps. And in the company of pirates no less. Samira huffed a sigh. The last few days was the safest she had felt in years.

“It’s strange,” she uttered.

Law overheard her, but said nothing in return. It wasn’t his business; her personal thoughts. Furthermore, his navigator had stopped. Bepo ushered him over and pushed aside the vivid leaf of an elephant ear.

Beyond the undergrowth was a meadow of giant crocus flowers, swaying gently in the wind; blue and violet like the sea on a calm day. Law stared at awe; the Crocus Sea; he understood. And at the edge of the meadow was a small village.

“You did good, Bepo.”

He led them from this point.

Samira cooed in awe at the beautiful flowers, picking one to place behind her ear. She was careful not to step on them as she moved to stand beside Law.

“This is what you were looking for?”

He grinned at her naïve and cheery behavior. “There are some species of crocus that are harmful to humans, Amunet-ya. Were you aware?”

“I’ve never seen one before … so no,” she retorted in dread.

Her sudden expression made him snort. “Fortunate for you, the bulbs here are not poisonous.”

“You really are wicked, Mester (mister) Trafalgar.”

Samira pouted, blowing out her cheek and pressed on towards the village. The nerve of him; each and every chance he got Law picked on her. It was irritating.

She reached the edge of the village; a shoddy wooden gate stood open, but Samira was hesitant to walk through it. There were no sounds coming from within the square; no people from the looks of it. Was it also abandoned? She wasn’t sure, so as she walked through the gate and into the village, she kept up her guard.

The buildings reminded her more of small huts made of wood and straw, some hardly standing. Weeds and creepers covered the entirety of the fenced off settlement, testing her theory that it was abandoned. She stood and waited for Law and the others to catch up.

“There’s no one here,” she pointed out, as Law sauntered up to meet her.

He took a look around and grunted. Samira seemed to be right; there were no signs of people. However, he felt the uncanny sense of eyes on them. 

“Does the scent end here?”

Bepo nodded. “It’s hard to tell, but the smell is all around us.”

_All around us?_

Law noticed from the corner of his eye a large menacing silhouette on top of the hut furthest from them, but as he turned to get a better look, the silhouette vanished; the broken straw from the roof lifting into the air was the only reason he thought his mind wasn’t losing it. He glanced around, but he couldn’t get a lock on the person.

Suddenly he realized why.

“Get out of the open; it’s a trap. He’s able to camou––

He was too late. Shachi let out a scream of pain and grabbed his left side; a familiar dart was lodged in him. His body immediately hit the ground and convulsed furiously.

Samira called out to him and ran to his side. Her bright eyes widened in fear once she noticed the dart. What was he doing here?

“Move him inside,” Law ordered, breaking her from her thoughts. “He’s been poisoned.”

Bepo and Penguin picked him up and took him inside one of the huts; Law and Samira followed. She watched as Law removed the dart and formed a room around them. The rest she was perplexed by. Law used the large sword Bepo had been carrying to cut him in half; her stomach churned in disgust.

How could he? She thought he was a doctor?

Tears poured down her face. It was her fault Shachi was dead. She grabbed her head and sobbed; her power sparked to life.

“Amunet-ya! Control yourself,” Law hissed. He could hardly focus; her ability was chaotic.

She shook her head.

“He wants me; only me. I’m sorry … so sorry.”

Warm hands took her own. She glanced up in shock; Bepo was pleading with her to stop. But why? Shachi was dead because of her.

“It’s fine; Shachi is fine.”

He wasn’t though. She watched Law cut him in half. As she looked at him, though, she noticed that he was back in one piece; he was unconscious, but he was breathing.

Her power eased up, leaving her feeling exhausted. Penguin was in shock.

“Can someone explain to me what’s going on? Who the hell is that guy out there?”

Law shot a glance at Samira. “Tell them Amunet-ya.”

“It doesn’t matter what I tell them,” she uttered. “Arsenio won’t let us leave. He’s too fast, and his power is unlike anything you’ve ever seen; he’s a monster.”

Law stood up and walked over to them. His room was still activated, but this was mostly so he could determine where Arsenio was. He managed to avoid the room.

“He ate a Devil Fruit; a Zoan type I imagine.”

The poison he used was secreted from his body, not amassed like Law originally thought. He came to this conclusion when he figured out that Arsenio could camouflage. His leap radius was beyond human standards too; a dart frog maybe.

“Clever of him to ambush us in a place like this,” he mentioned with a grin. The vast forest and fauna covered huts made an excellent place for him to hide.

An instantaneous thump rocked their hut. Law kept his room up, but the control over it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me? I want to speak to the captain; Trafalgar Law. He is amongst the five of you in there, isn’t he?”

He’d heard of him. Law grunted in annoyance. “I am. What can I do for you, Frog-ya?”

“Pleased to meet you. My name is Arsenio, ribbit, and yes … I am a frog man.” His guttural voice chilled Samira to the bone. “As I am sure you know, the asset within your care is important to me; I need her back, so I am willing to give you the chance to return her to me, before I barge in and kill you and the crew you brought onto the island with you; that includes the pretty lady on the pirate ship too, ribbit.”

Law snorted. “Not even going to let us walk, are you? That’s cruel. I imagine the missing pirate crew was on you then?”

“It was, ribbit. As you and the others will be,” Arsenio stated.

He left Law no real choice. Making a quick decision he grabbed Samira by the arm and yanked her away from Bepo. She gave him a confused look, but he ignored her.

“You want her, Frog-ya? Meet with me in the square and I’ll bring her out.”

Samira froze up in fear. What was he doing? She pulled away and glared at him; her chest tightened as her power activated.

Law didn’t have time for this.

“Listen to me, Amunet-ya. I have an easy plan to beat him, but you need to calm down first. Whatever your power is rouses frenzied emotions from others; I can’t focus,” he mentioned.

She widened her eyes. Frenzied emotions? She wasn’t aware others could feel her power when it flared up. This scared her. Samira took a deep and anxious breath; the feeling in her chest eased up.

Law relaxed a bit. His thoughts cleared up. He also took a breath. “I don’t know the extent or power of your ability, but I want you to use it on him when I tell you to. The rest I will take care of.”

“I can’t … I could hurt you or the others,” she tried to explain. Losing control was too great a risk. “There has to be another way. This plan won’t work.”

He sneered at her. How dare she. “Trust me. Do as I say and control it. You’ve done it before.”

Samira frown; he was right. She controlled her power back in Slab Town, and she did it again just a few minutes ago. Focus … control. Drying her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, Samira took a deep breath. She could do it.

“How will I know when to blast him?”

Law grinned. “When I form a room; that will be the signal.”

He took her arm again – gentler this time – and directed her outside the hut.

Arsenio, like planned was waiting in the square. Samira trembled in fear; he was not as she remembered. He was a monster; a giant and grotesque monster with round cheeks. His obtrusive makeup had spread across his body in bands of black and yellow, and his arms and legs were broad and muscular. Was this the power of his Devil Fruit? Could Law really beat this beast?

Said man suddenly stopped and pulled her close to him. Samira could feel his warm breath against her neck.

“Let her come to me,” Arsenio demanded. His voice was guttural and stern, different from the mild-mannered tone in which he usually spoke.

Law released Samira. “Nice and slow; move.”

She did as he ordered and sauntered forward. Her heart thumped swiftly in her chest.

Trust him … trust him.

She could find no reason not to.

Nearing the monster who tormented and exploited her for so long, Samira clenched her jaw. He was going to suffer; she would make sure of this. Her demons beseeched her to blast him away, but she trusted Law; she needed to wait.

As she came within reach of Arsenio, her power activated. His horizontal pupils dilated; he seemed to notice. Though before he could respond, a familiar blue room swallowed them – the signal. Arsenio croaked in irritation.

“Don’t eve––

Samira interrupted him, throwing back her broken arm. Wisps of chaotic energy poured off her in erratic waves as she landed a hit. The force of the punch generated a shockwave that blasted her and Arsenio back; Samira hit the ground with a loud oomph, and the frog man smacked into the wall of a busted hut.

Law traded places with debris from the wall and used his Scalpel technique to expel his heart. It bounced out and landed next to Arsenio’s unconscious human body.

_Well done, Amunet-ya._

He picked up the encased heart and brought it to said woman. She was laid out on her back, out of breath and covered in dirt and minor scratches; he was amused that she was still awake.

“Did your plan work?”

Law nodded. “Better than I expected.”

He showed her Arsenio’s heart and smirked as she wheezed in shock. It thumped in its glass like prison.

“He’s not dead? You realize that letting him go is a mistake?”

Law was aware. He brought up the cube and gave it a squeeze. Arsenio may have been unconscious, but from afar Law heard him wheeze noisily in pain.

“That’s a strange power you have, Mester (mister) Trafalgar. It’s extremely terrifying,” Samira admitted softly.

She wondered about Arsenio though. “You have his heart. What do you intend to do with it?”

“I have some questions for him, then I’ll let him go, but I’m taking his heart in exchange for the one he took from me.”

Samira wasn’t sure what he meant by this, but she had a horrible feeling it wasn’t something good. She closed her tired eyes and sighed. No matter; Arsenio’s fate wasn’t her concern. He’d most likely die for failing to capture her.

For the time being she felt safe. Opening her eyes, warm tears clouded her vision.

“I hate this place. The sun is too bright,” she mentioned with a sob.

Law grinned. “Whatever you say, Amunet-ya.”


	6. Mapped Emotions

Anxious barely described how she felt at the moment, waiting in the galley for word from Law. Samira wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there, but her thoughts were eating her alive. She was certain Law was going to demand that she leave his company once he heard what Arsenio had to say about her. The fact he brought the portly man aboard his sub was another reason she was sweating bullets; he was unpredictable and violent. Law was insane.

Samira buried her face into her quaking arms and took a breath. The tension was already extreme; her own was not needed. Law mentioned that her power roused emotions in a person that were often hectic. If what he said was accurate, then her power spreading at this time was not ideal.

She honestly wanted to cry, but to save herself the embarrassment, she focused on her breathing until the door opened. Samira brought up her head and forced a smile. It was Bepo and not Law who had entered.

He was taken back, but approached her regardless.

“How is Shachi? And you; and Penguin. I never wanted to––

Bepo lifted his paw to stop her. “Don’t worry about us. We know too well the risks.”

He watched her smile fade. It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear – Bepo knew – but Law had instructed him to keep the condition of the party a secret. Samira was a guest, and once Law spoke to her; she may not be a guest for long.

Incidentally, Law also instructed him to bring Samira to him. Bepo mentioned this to her and saw her eyes widen in fear. He felt sorry for her, but orders were orders.

Samira hesitantly stood and followed Bepo through the galley and down a level to the crew bunks. No one was around, but she wondered if the sub was at rest on the water; her breath was steady and as she waited in the galley, she heard no sound otherwise suggesting that the Polar Tang had submerged. It felt like a bad omen to her; an end to beautiful days.

At the hatch door near the end of the hall Bepo left her. Samira watched his large figure as it departed up the stairs and sighed in despair. She assumed that she’d better knock. Doing so gently Law allowed her in seconds later.

He was turned – back towards her – searching through a thick tome from his bookstand. Samira took a reluctant seat in the open chair in front of his desk and sat quietly as he flipped through the pages in a rush. She occupied this brief moment of peace by searching his workspace; it was cluttered with interesting things.

She grew suspicious over the amass of bounty posters scattered around, but decided to ignore them. A pocket-sized chest of coins interested her more. And they were all unalike; shapes and colors that Samira had never seen before.

“You have an amazing collection of coins, Mester (mister) Trafalgar. How long have you been amassing them?”

Law hummed and turned to face her. “Since I became a captain. It’s an unnecessary interest I’ve yet to kick.”

“Why stop? It seems exciting to me.”

He snorted; she was easy to rouse. Law brought the tome over to the desk and laid it open. His money chest and the posters he relocated to make room – much to her disappointment.

“The Isle of Red Sands; it’s where you escaped from according to Frog-ya.”

Samira frowned. She hoped that he wouldn’t learn much from Arsenio, but whatever Law did to him apparently was enough to scare him into telling him the truth.

“That’s right,” she confirmed.

Law turned the book towards her. She recognized it as a map; a small and dated map of the Grand Line. The section she could see had a series of misshaped lumps that reminded her of islands; each one eventually connected to an island right before the Red Line.

“Where’s it located? I asked Frog-ya but he wasn’t too sure.”

She raised a brow. Too sure? Lifting a finger, she pointed to a place on the map with no name. There wasn’t even an island; it was directly at the base of the Red Line.

Law was shocked. “Your island is near the Red Line?”

Samira shook her head. “It’s inside the Red Line; a cave island. The reason no one knows where it’s located is because it’s never been found by sailors or the Marines. Foreigners seldom come to the Isle; storms and poor navigational skills bring them to our shore line.”

His eyes widened in realization. It never occurred to Law before that Samira was so unusual; her island was a relic to the past. It was located beneath the nose of the World Government – how ironic.

“Have you heard of the Void Century before?”

Unfortunately, no. Samira again shook her head. Law grinned; he assumed this was the case.

“It’s a century long gap in recorded and archaeological history so important and relevant that by learning them, one is said to become aware of the true history of the world,” he explained. “The World Government forbids the study of the Void Century, but many people choose to be ignorant about it; fear of being wiped out. Our language and currency are mostly the same wherever you go in this world, but there are ones like you who don’t fit.”

Samira frowned. “I had no idea. My country is isolated and I doubt anyone knows about the Void Century. Honestly, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry, Samira-ya. It goes to show just how incompetent the World Government is.” Law shut the book and stood up to place it back in the case where he took it from.

Now to the matter at hand.

“Frog-ya confirmed that you have Devil Fruit powers.”

She assumed so.

“When you ate it; either it was a fruit of some kind with swirls on the peel or chunks of similar design, you would have learned its name. For some reason you don’t seem to remember, or know what a Devil Fruit is for that matter, but Frog-ya told me; in case you wanted to know,” he explained.

Law turned and waited for her to decide. Samira seemed to be in a heated debate with herself. She eventually sighed and nodded.

“The Kaosu-Kaosu no Mi is its given name. You spread and amass chaos and misfortune.”

Her eyes stung with tears. Shouldn’t she be ecstatic? All this resulted in was more dread. Her arms tightened around her waist. “I never wanted this; I thought by eating it I could avoid unnecessary casualties, but it mattered not to them. Arsenio and the others used me to ruin so many lives. I just … wanted to protect my people … but I––

“It doesn’t matter what you did in the past,” Law interrupted. He clutched the bridge of his nose in annoyance; so many tears for such a tiny woman. “You have no control over your power because no one ever allowed you a chance to learn. Who’s to stop you now?”

Samira widened her eyes. He was right. Arsenio and the others couldn’t stop her from learning. She rose up and without reasoning draped her arms around Law; her tearstained cheek rested against his collarbone.

He was at a loss on what to do. The rational response would be to embrace her back or ease her away, but Law was powerless. He allowed her to continue for now; his face was warm with embarrassment.

“Please teach me. I haven’t a clue where to start,” Samira begged.

Law grunted. He really had no time for this? The crew had an agenda of its own; training her wasn’t in the plan. However, it had occurred to him upon learning the extent of her power from Arsenio that she might come in handy when collecting the hearts he needed to sway the Marines. Samira was trained to fight; Shachi even said this. He could ask for her help for a little while until he learned what to do with her.

“You owe me so much already, Amunet-ya. Do you honestly want to add to it?”

She agreed with a nod. “If it means I can learn from you, then I don’t mind forever being in your debt.”

“You’ll regret that,” he assured her.

Samira snorted; she felt him shiver. Heat spread to her face. No doubt this was awkward for Law. She released him and stepped back. “Thank you … I don’t know much else to say.”

“You could start with an apology,” he mentioned.

What for? Samira was confused. She lifted a brow in uncertainty.

“Shachi is resting in his room.”

Her eyes grew in understanding. He got hurt because of her. She bobbed her head to agree. “May I be excused? I’d like to apologize to him and the others.”

Law nodded and sat back at his desk. “We have much to discuss, Amunet-ya. Don’t assume that I am done, and don’t get too comfortable with our guest; he’ll be departing our crew on the next island.”

“Yes sir.”

It may have been in good fun, but Samira felt a sudden ease wash over her. Yes sir; she saw herself as one of the crew for a moment. Before Law could scold her, Samira rushed from his room. She had a new found resolve burning in her chest.

Law and the crew were something precious she wanted to protect with her power. With time, she hoped to achieve this.

* * *

“Have you located them yet?”

She certainly had. Her dark wings beat relentlessly to keep up pace with the yellow sub. She was lucky that it hadn’t submerged yet, having found it before it disappeared again.

“I’m following them right now, master. How should I proceed?”

The voice on the line hummed. “Keep with them for now. Once you locate Arsenio and are capable of speaking to him, give him the message and return back. The pirates my asset is with is much too strong to deal with alone.”

“And about Daiane sir? If I see her should I do the same?”

Hissing, the voice slammed down the receiver and ended the call. Her Transponder Snail tied to her foot went silent. The woman laughed. Daiane and Arsenio were in trouble when they returned to the Isle. It brought her great pleasure to see them punished for their failures; Mariposa got a warning, but she too would soon be punished, once she returned to the Country of Love.

Yes. She couldn’t wait. A chirp of excitement left her beak; she began to whistle a happy tune.

_Master loves when I whistle._


	7. The Lull Before the Storm

“Samira. Do you have a minute?”

Said woman peeked over from her seat near the desk and smiled at Penguin. He leaned against the door of his shared room, arms crossed over his chest; his roommate and navigator were giving him sour expressions. This nearly made him laugh.

“Our Captain asked for you,” he made clear.

Their unpleasant attitudes barely faltered.

Samira bowed her head and stood up. “We can finish the map another time. Alf šukr. (a thousand thanks)”

Penguin raised a brow. “A map? What kind?”

He pushed off the frame and walked into the room, peeking over the bear’s shoulder as he drew lines on a chart sheet. It wasn’t much to look at; Penguin could make out a landform with some notable locations, but he had never heard of them before.

“The Isle of Red Sand,” he read out loud. He gave Samira a curious look.

She gently laughed. “It’s where I’m from. Meister (mister) Trafalgar inquired about it during our last talk.”

“And you’re making a map for him? Does that mean we’ll get to see your homeland someday?”

Samira hoped not. She hid her frown well, but her eyes narrowed. “Possibly. The Isle isn’t exactly safe to visit right now, but one day you guys might be able to see it. My sister would love to meet you all.”

“I’d love to meet her too,” Shachi mentioned with a sigh. “I bet she’s as sweet as you, Sami.”

This was the first time he’d heard about her sister – Samira hardly talked about her life before meeting them – but he imagined they looked a lot alike.

“She’s the nicest person I know … my brother not so much,” Samira mentioned. She didn’t give her words much thought until Shachi trembled in fear; her brother was a sore topic for her.

An obvious frown appeared on her face, but she laughed regardless; awkward and loud. “He is extremely protective of us, but he’s not a terrible person.”

She wished this was true; he wasn’t the same person she grew up with, but regardless of his bad decisions she loved him. Samira huffed a sigh and stood up.

“Mester (mister) Trafalgar asked for me; we should go.”

Penguin nodded. He was curious about her relationship with her brother, but thought it best not to ask. Her entire demeanor had changed in a matter of seconds, and honestly, he hated it. What happened between them? The serious looks she was getting from Shachi and Bepo made him believe that they too were just as curious.

She said her farewells and left the room with Penguin, following him up the stairs at the end of the hall and to the second level. She assumed Law was on deck waiting for her, but was shocked to see that he and some of the crew were on the shore of the next island. When had they docked? She stared in awe at the vast scenery, and only snapped out of her daze once she heard Penguin call her name.

Following him from the submarine, Samira was eager to explore. Law motioned them closer, and ordered Penguin to head further onto the island with the others; she noticed a wooden barrel near the shore where he was standing, but paid it no mind.

“Are we going onto the island too?”

Law grinned. “Once we’re done here. The Log Pose will take two days to reset and I have some business to attend to.”

“I assume that means you don’t need me to follow you around,” Samira mentioned.

He laughed at her attempt. “You assume wrong.”

“You’re no fun,” she whined.

Law ignored her, striking the barrel with his foot. “That aside, we should take care of this matter first.”

He saw the confused look on her face, and leaned down to pull the lid off the barrel. Samira squeaked once she saw what was inside. Law had cut up Arsenio and had shoved the pieces into the barrel; his fingers and toes twitched and his large eyes stared up at her, blinking every now and then.

“How is he alive? And what did you do to him?”

Law sighed. “It’s something my Devil Fruit allows me to do. Now isn’t the time to explain it; we’re in front of the enemy.”

His power was seriously frightening. Samira trembled and glanced down at the frog man. Why was he like this? She recalled Law saying that Arsenio would be leaving them, but she never assumed like this.

“Does he feel pain?”

Law shook his head. “Unless I want him to. I’m surprised though, Amunet-ya. One of your many horrors is right in front of you, and questioning me is only thing you can think to do.”

“I––

He was right. Law went to the trouble of giving her a last word and she had so far wasted his generosity. But what should she say? Samira clinched her hands. There was so much to say; so much anger and despair in her heart. She took a deep breath, then let it out.

“I could be ruthless; I could scream at you and hope that the sea drags you down to the depths, but I’m not like you.” Tears burned her eyes as she tried to contain her rage. “In fact, … I want you to live; I want you to make it back to the Isle, and I want you to tell your boss that I’m free to live my life the way I want to.”

Arsenio croaked in laughter. “So long as you are an asset to the Boss, you will never be free.”

“I’ll be waiting then. Tell him to come and get me,” Samira hissed. She grabbed the lid and secured it back onto the barrel, then kicked it into the sea.

Law snorted; no doubt, that was the lamest and most reckless farewell he’d ever heard. What had been going through her mind? “You say whatever you want – thoughtless or not – don’t you?”

“He made me mad; I wasn’t even thinking.”

Her face warmed up. Did she just pick a fight with them? Samira shot a glare at Law.

“Why didn’t you stop me? I can’t take that back you know?”

He agreed. “You can worry about it later. We need to reach the Exchange Shop before it closes.”

“Are you ever worried about anything?”

Law ignored her question. He ambled down the manmade path leading from the shore towards the village; Samira followed him with a pout.

At least she’d get to see the island now.

* * *

_The Festival of Colors. _Samira held the multihued flyer against her chest as she waited outside the Exchange Shop for Law. A native of the island handed it to her as he passed through the plaza, insisting that she come and participate in the fun. She had no clue what the Festival of Colors was, but she was hooked; the flyer mentioned there’d be music and delicious food. Samira wanted to go.

She leaned back against the wall and waited until Law returned. He carried a small case with him and walked past her as he searched the shops for the next stop. Samira ran to his side and hummed a jaunty tune; Law recognized it as the one his crew often played onboard the submarine.

“Liking this, are you?”

She was indeed. Sakra village was stunning. Samira had never seen a place so vibrant. Color decorated every building; no two were the same, like a kaleidoscope.

“It’s so beautiful. Don’t you agree?”

Law hummed. “It’s intense.”

“That’s the sort of condescending thing I expected you to say,” Samira laughed.

He raised a brow. “Are you saying that I’m a negative person, Amunet-ya?”

“Sometimes, yes.” _Just seems like you never learned to smile._

She chose not to elaborate; she’d already said too much. A gentle smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

“Look at me, proving you right. I guess I do say whatever I want without thinking.”

Law agreed. “You certainly do.”

He sighed and came to an abrupt stop. The arrangement he made with her was troubling him. Honestly, there was no time to train her, but he had to go and agree. He had a course to set and a plan to recreate; much to prepare for. However, the sub was docked for two days, much to his chagrin.

“We need to head back,” Law mentioned. There was enough light in the day to get a few hours’ worth of training.

Samira was confused. She puckered a brow, but Law merely grinned.

“You have until we leave to show me how serious you are about controlling your Devil Fruit power. I promised to teach you, but if I see no progress, then I see no reason to waste my time with you.”

She understood. Nodding in agreement, Samira followed Law back to the submarine. She wanted to show him the flyer for the festival, but knew that now was not the best time. It was tomorrow night; she could ask him then.


	8. Electric Blue

_It’s too much; I can’t do this. _Samira frowned and stooped in defeat. She was worn out; her arms were extremely heavy and ached. Why couldn’t she do exactly what had been asked of her?

The glass bottles laid out in front of her were shattered into millions of pieces; not the outcome she desired. Her goal was to move them – not by much – but even this was proving to be too hard. Her Devil Fruit seemed to be based on destruction alone, and that was enough to discourage her. Maybe Law had it all wrong. 

“May I have a break?”

Said man agreed; this would be the third she had taken since this morning. He had to hand it to her though, she was trying and had not yet given up.

“Five minutes, then either you stop or start again.”

Samira nodded forlornly and rose, staggering over to him. Once she sunk down onto the ground next to the crate he was sitting on, she stretched her tired legs out and forced the numbness from them. It felt like small needles were piercing her skin.

“Any idea how long we’ve been out here?”

Law tossed a decanter of water near her feet. “Since sunrise; five hours, give or take.”

“And I’ve done nothing but break a few hundred bottles since we started,” she grumbled. Laying back in the grass, she covered her eyes with her arm and sighed. “I don’t understand it; I can’t move them.”

Law remained quiet. He may have overanalyzed her Devil Fruit a bit; it was much easier than he’d originally thought. Arsenio explained it as a force, so he assumed at the time she could manifest the stored energy around objects, but that was not the case.

It was chaos, pure destructive force. Samira may have been able to limit her power, reduce its strength, but eventually it had to go somewhere.

“You can’t tame disorder; you can lessen its range though.”

Samira hummed in question and removed her arm. Did he say something?

Law had an idea, but Samira wasn’t going to like it. He stood up and gathered his sword from the ground, then moved to put some distance between them.

She watched in skepticism. “What are you doing? Going to get a little training in too?”

“Stand up, Amunet-ya. We’re going to try something,” Law ordered. He didn’t want to give away too much about his plan, but he knew that she’d never trust him again otherwise.

She listened without a complaint and stood in front of him. “Okay … what now?”

Law activated a room and unsheathed his sword. With a clean and well-planned swing, he cut her casted arm at the elbow joint. It fell with a thump onto the grass near her feet.

_My arm … he took my arm. _Samira stared in horror at the unnatural stump. There was no blood spewing from the wound and no pain to follow; it was just gone.

_Like Arsenio. _Was he going to cut her into pieces too?

“I don’t understand. Just what are you doing to me?” 

Law grinned. “Isn’t it obvious; I’m tearing you apart.”

“And what does this have to do with my training? Put my arm back on; I know you can.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t get to order me around.”

With another swipe of his sword, Samira felt her balance give out and collapsed onto her rear with a loud grunt. Her leg was gone now too. Anger consumed her; she felt utterly helpless. 

“Did I strike a nerve, Amunet-ya?”

Yes, he did. The entire point of this exorcise was to help her control her power so that she didn’t ever have to feel helpless again. Samira dug her teeth into her bottom lip and glared at him.

“Put me back together. I didn’t ask,” she snarled.

Wisps of red and black moved between her fingers like an electric current. She tossed out her hand and shot the bolt of energy towards Law, eager to hit him in his smug face. The bolt hit, but Law switched places with the crate he had been sitting on at last second; it burst into nothing but slivers of burnt wood and fell into the grass as the sparks hissed out.

Law moved quickly behind her and placed the blade of his sword to her exposed neck. “Almost had me there. Not too bad.”

She panted in exhaustion. Maybe she took it too far, but surprisingly she felt much better. Still, she shot him a glare. 

“My limbs; I want them back.”

Law ignored her demand and grinned. “I can reattach them.”

He laid his sword down and kneeled beside her, taking her casted arm into his hands. Her brown skin was warm against his palm – something he tried to ignore as he pieced her back together. 

“Move your fingers for me,” he ordered.

Samira did so and was surprised to see that her fingers worked as they had before. She sighed in relief.

“You scared me for a minute,” she admitted. Looking out at the crate she blew apart in her attempt to attack Law, she bit her lip in shame. “I managed to do it again; destroy.”

Law hummed and attached her leg. “Because that’s precisely what your Devil Fruit is meant to do. I was wrong about its capabilities, believing that the force could be used to move an object. It crackles like an electric current, and expands rapidly on contact, like it did with the crate, but the longer it fosters inside you, the more damage it does.”

“Not the exact words I wanted to hear, but I understand.”

It was a part of her, connected to her emotions. It grew with her fear; her anger; her pain. Samira knew only one approach to control it; to control her emotions first.

“I know what I have to do,” she stated in glee.

Law was eager to find out.

“Another time,” he advised.

The wide-eyed look on her face made him laugh. “There are chores to do, and I still have materials to get in town before the stores close.”

_Because of the festival. _Samira perked up and reached out, grasping Law’s hoodie. “Go with me to the festival tonight. I really want to go.”

Law grunted in annoyance. “Don’t give me orders; I’m the captain and besides, we’re leaving first thing in the morning once the Log Pose sets.”

“That’s why I asked you to go with me,” she pouted. “So, you can keep an eye on me and make sure I return to the sub at a decent hour. We don’t have to stay long; I just want to experience my first festival before I never get the chance to again.”

Law pinched the bridge of nose. Was she serious? Her act may have worked on lesser men, but it wouldn’t work on him. He separated from her and stood up, resting his sword against his shoulder.

“Go back to the sub. You have chores to do,” he ordered.

Samira got up with a bounce in her step. “Then can we go? You said I have chores, but I can do them as soon as I get back.”

Where was this energy coming from? Law rolled his eyes; he’d think about it.

* * *

Penguin stared at her in amazement.

“How?”

It’s not like he doubted Samira, but he also knew how his captain was.

Samira honestly didn’t know either. “He seemed a little annoyed, so maybe I pushed him too much.”

“Either way,” Shachi stated. He took the lead as he peeked over his shoulder at them. “He gave his permission, so we shouldn’t question it.”

Penguin agreed; however, he was still amazed. Samira somehow convinced Law into permitting them to proceed to the _Festival of Colors_. As sudden as it was – Samira went to them once the sun had set with the news – Penguin was more than pleased to celebrate one last night before the crew continued their journey, even though he was her sitter.

“Did Ikkaku not wish to go?”

Shachi grunted in annoyance.

“Is she gonna be there too?”

Samira held back a laugh. “Yes. I asked her too. She went ahead of us; said she had something to do before the festival started, but she promised to meet up once she was done.”

“Perhaps she’ll get lost,” Shachi laughed.

No sooner had the word left his mouth, a colorful explosion of sea green dusted his face.

Samira covered her mouth and nose in fear of it being poison, but a familiar voice calmed her.

“Too bad, dunderhead.”

Ikkaku came out from the shadows of the timberline with a laugh. The same green powder covered her hands and boiler suit, but unlike Shachi, she didn’t seem to mind.

“The hell is this powder? Can it kill me?”

At his comment, she rolled her eyes. “No, idiot. It’s made from corn starch and food colorant.”

Penguin hummed in agreement. “I heard about this. The powders made in the village are thrown to pay homage to the bright colors seen during the spring season. There’s a legend too; one about an evil demoness, but most of the village celebrates the _Festival of Colors _to bear witness to a sense of brotherhood and social harmony.”

“Get the message,” Ikkaku brought up. “I was doin’ something nice for ya.”

Shachi wiped his mouth. “Didn’t have to throw it into mouth.”

“No, but how else was I gonna shut that mouth of yours?”

He glared at her, and tried to argue back, but Samira interrupted him with a cute laugh.

“It sounds like so much fun. I can’t wait.”

Ikkaku beamed. “The inauguration started at an earlier time, but the festival is still on, music and bonfires. I bought enough powder to throw, since the colors stand out more in the daytime and we missed the literal color toss.”

“That’s no problem,” Samira declared.

Penguin agreed. “Better get movin’ then.”

He led them down the remainder of the foot path towards the square; festive tunes lured them closer. The wavering lite of the bonfire caught his eye, and the mouthwatering scent of homecooked food consumed him; it was divine.

“Look at all the people,” Samira stated.

She had never seen so many in one place; not all of them could be natives, she thought. Layers of bright powders covered their skin as they danced and partied. She was in awe. Lured forward, Shachi stopped her.

“Ya can’t go,” he mentioned.

She rose a brow and before she could ask why, he tossed blue powder over her head, dusting her stark hair. She laughed in excitement.

“Suits ya.”

Penguin tossed his arm over his shoulder. “And a face full of green suits you.”

He grunted and tossed some at said man; he was also hit in the face and gasped as it got into his mouth.

“Want some more?”

Shachi bombarded him with color, going as far as to chase him into the crowd.

“Can they ever act normal?”

Their crewmate rolled her eyes.

Samira laughed again. “I think it’s cute. They seem close, like brothers.”

“Those two have always been together,” Ikkaku clarified. “The Captain recruited them at the same time; way before me or anyone else I heard.”

She was intrigued. This was honestly the first bit of information about the crew Samira had learned. She smiled and tried to locate them in the crowd, but they were gone. Her attention went to the bonfire where several female natives were dancing, and her mind was set.

“I want to dance; come with me please.”

Ikkaku turned red. “You sure? I can’t dance.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Samira admitted. “It’s not routine, so we can dance any way we want.”

She took her hand and ventured forward. The warmth of the fire lured her closer until she came to an opening that encircled the bonfire; the dancers were allowed a wide girth to prance around, enough space to accommodate several people. Samira closed her eyes, hearing to the sound of the drums. Her foot moved along with the rhythm and little by little her hips rocked with the tune.

“How do you do that? Get lost in the music.”

Samira hummed. “It’s not hard; I have a connection to it, many people do. I become part of the music and the music becomes part of me.”

“Seems easier said than done,” she confessed.

Samira shook her head in disagreement. She released her hand and intermingled with the dancers, facing Ikkaku as she pranced on the calloused pads of her feet to the metallic sound of the lute. She transferred her weight from one foot to the other, rocking her arms above her head as she leapt from side to side.

“Come and dance,” Samira shouted.

Ikkaku refused, hesitant to embarrass herself, but Samira was having none of this. She led her into the circle and urged her to dance. Ikkaku glanced around for incentive; every person was dancing a unique way; no two people danced the same.

“Where do I start?”

Samira beamed. “Start with your body; move your hips or sway your arms.”

As an example, she pirouetted and rocked her arms.

Ikkaku imitated her with a snort; it wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t as sinuous as Samira was, but she had a style of her own; unrefined and spirited.

Each danced in fits of laughter. This was the most fun either of them had in quite some time, Samira above all – the last occasion being her brother’s inauguration into kinghood. It was nice to eventually relax a little. Too bad Law didn’t come along with them; he could use a break.

Samira panted in exhaustion and searched the amassing throng; everyone seemed so pleased. This is the reason why a woman near stood out to her. That electric blue eye staring at her deeply with cruelty; that broad and recognizable grin.

_Daiane?!_

An explosion of color overwhelmed her, the thousand varying shades interflowing, masking her.

Ikkaku saw the wide-eyed expression on her face, like she had seen a phantom, and touched her arm.

“Are you all right?”

Daiane – if that happened to be her – had disappeared once the powder scattered.

“Yes … exhausted,” Samira assured her.

A break was possibly what they required.

“We need to find the dunderheads, so let’s do so,” Ikkaku proposed.

Samira agreed in uncertainty and tailed her into the throng. She remained particularly close to Ikkaku until someone pulled on her arm and halted her; pressure from their grasp shot an intense pain up her arm.

“No reason to stop on my account, sweetheart. I rather appreciate seeing you dance; suggests that I haven’t yet broken you.”

Pulling her arm away, Samira turned and tried to grimace. She was horrified, because who stood before her was a pinnacle of torment and nightmares for her.

“My, what a lovely expression. Reminds me of our past sessions,” Daiane cooed. Zany swirls overtook her eye; the other remained concealed behind a patch with an hourglass shape on it. 

Samira trembled. Why was she here? Daiane wasn’t a tracker. So, why send her? Sinking her teeth into her lip, Samira took an uneasy breath and prompted her Devil Fruit.

“You will not take me alive.”

Daiane laughed. “That's the plan, sweetheart.”

Spider-like appendages came from her back; two hoisted her from the ground and two rose above her head posed to strike.

Samira had certainly not seen her this way before. Was she a Zoan too? Her heart hammered in fear. Exactly how was she intended to battle this woman?


End file.
